And Capers Ensue
by justonemorefic
Summary: Armed with spunk, sugar, and a blatant disregard for the laws of physics, Hogwarts inventor Bea Chang walks the fine line between genius and mad scientist, exploding classrooms on a too-regular basis, much to Fred's chagrin. But then her latest invention catches the eye of Scorpius Malfoy, heir to magical Britain's largest, shadiest company... —Dobby Winner & TGS Story of the Year—
1. Begin With A Bang

**HELLO, PROSPECTIVE READER!**

This fic is, well, a little bit of everything I love. It's a coming-of-age story, with a dollop of adventure, comedy, romance, and baked good. When I began writing this, I had three things in mind. The first was that I wanted to write a story that captured the spirit of Hogwarts as JKR does, which can be rare in Next Gen humor. The second was that I wanted a lot of shippy romance (because I love shippy romance :3) without being primarily a romance story. The third was to juggle an ensemble cast. The major players are Beatrice Chang, Scorpius Malfoy, Fred Weasley, Anjali Patil-Davies, and Albus Potter. The PoVs rotate; don't get dizzy.

The plot is entirely planned out (and yes, there is a plot! A plotty plot, I might add, as plots tend to be), so I am writing toward an established ending.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it

_Love to Margravine for adoring this since August, GubraithianFire for the spazzing, Inti for the title, Ellerina for the casting, & foundriapenguin for the general fangirling, and everyone else for putting up with the crazy._

**Note: This fic is currently most updated at the HPFF archive, link found in my profile, with the most recent edits & chapter images.**

* * *

**1. BEGIN WITH A BANG**  
_Bea didn't have occupational hazards. She _was_ the occupational hazard._

It wasn't supposed to explode.

Bea measured the lionroot essence twice to make sure she didn't put in too much. Fred measured it a third time, going on and on about how Filch nearly caught them the _last _time they borrowed an empty classroom for brewing.

It was fine, she insisted. Untested potions with unicorn hair were tricky, but she had worked with them before. The worst it could do was fizzle, _maybe _cause a few sparks.

After adding in two spoonfuls as directed by the recipe, the potion turned to the target blue color. She then proceeded to give her 'I-told-you-so-you-owe-me-a-butterbeer' smirk to Fred, who replied with his 'You-got-lucky-this-time-buy-it-yourself' eye roll.

Except they both probably should have been paying attention to the gurgling sound and Fred's eye roll only got to 'You-got-lucky-this' before a classroom-shattering boom threw them backwards.

It happened in slow-motion, complete with bodies arcing gracefully, hair fanning back, and potion droplets settling like dew on their skin. It would have been very pretty if it weren't equally painful.

Bea had plenty of time to consider exactly what went wrong in that interval between seeing the black smoke of failure erupt from the cauldron and the cruel slap of the wooden floor underneath her cheek.

...was it lionroot _essence_ or was it lionroot _powder?_

The two lay on the floor, coughing up a fit as the dust settled around them. Fred tugged her up, one hand on her collar, the other pushing up on the edge of the nearest desk. "What the _bloody_— "

She leapt back to the cauldron, a sooty finger in the air. "Powder!" she cried. "Two spoonfuls of _powder!_"

"Oh, for Fawkes sake."

The saddest bit was that Fred didn't appear the least bit surprised. After two years worth of their escapades, he knew how often head-shakingly simple mistakes blew up in their face. It was the third time he singed his eyebrows that month.

The woes of innovators.

Bea scooped a spoonful into the vial — Fred winced at her slapdash measuring — and dumped it into their reserve batch. Fred immediately ducked under the table.

"I'm not going to mess up _twice,_" she said, stirring the mixture until it glowed blue like the previous attempt.

"You said the same thing when we were trying to replicate my dad's Portable Swamp."

"That was just that one time." His head turned and she could feel him glaring through the table. Bea scowled. "Fine, _one point five_. Ahem, you're being ridiculous. Come look; it's safe."

"Tell that to my eyebrows."

Bea thrust a sample vial under the table, shaking it for good measure. "There. One completely inert sensory enhancer concentrate. Happy now?"

He swabbed the rim with a finger and dabbed it on the side of his nose. "Ugh." Every musty, molding stink from underneath the table filled his nostrils. "Well, it works."

In other words, _good enough_.

And so began the tedium of mopping up the mess and returning the supplies to the proper cupboards. The explosion had thankfully gone unnoticed by the rest of the castle — Fred's famously strong Silencing Charms had held — but there was no need to stick around longer than necessary. Stealing from the ingredient cupboards wasn't about to give any points to Ravenclaw, especially if Filch knew they were being used for making the newest Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product.

Today's tests were for an ointment that made the user's lips tingle if it touched any food or drink laced with love potion. After the previous year's drugged chocolates trend, when over a dozen blokes fell victim to lovesick girls (and one house elf), Fred realized the potential market for a preventive measure. He knew their first customer: star Keeper Deric Kingsworth, who didn't let a forkful of food near his mouth for nearly a week after Valentine's Day.

Bea attempted to levitate all twenty vials back into the cupboard at once, until Fred glared at her and she grudgingly returned to levitating them one at a time. "When are we going to work on my transistor?"

A hint of dismay crinkled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're still on that thing. I'm telling you: it's a lost cause."

"You have a severe lack of faith. Would I work on it for so long if it were going nowhere?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

Bea opened her mouth before shutting it up with a pout. She heaved a sigh. "_Fine..._"

Fred shook his head. "Can you at least focus on _this _project until we're done?" He might not have inherited the inventor's genes from his dad, but he kept the progress steady from blueprint to store shelf. If the chaos better known as Beatrice Chang went unpruned, the Ravenclaw common room would be swimming in prototypes, all half-finished.

"It's called multitasking." She shut the cupboard after the last of the supplies floated their way in. "What about names? 'Beloved Begone Balm'? 'Deception Detector Dab'? 'Save-Me-from-the-Stalkers Salve'?"

"We've alliterated better." From his robe's hidden pocket, Fred drew out the Marauder's Map — bequeathed by James after he finished seventh year — and tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Ink spread across the page, outlining the rooms and hallways of the basement.

Bea stuck her head on top Fred's shoulder to take a peek. "The kitchens aren't too far a detour. Catch a late dinner? Biscuit run like the old days?" She ended on a hopeful lilt.

"Nah, essay for Herbology due tomorrow."

Her smile drooped. A lazy finger reached up and prodded his cheek. "Freddie, you used to be more fun than this."

He smacked her on the side of the head with the map before returning it to his pocket. "We don't have James' charisma to help us out this year if we get caught. Now come on. I'll give you half my treacle tart when we get back."

With the potion tucked safely in Bea's book bag, the two scampered out the door toward the closest stairwell. They made haste; there was still a prefect patrolling the dungeons.

Fred had one hand on the banister, looking upwards to the ground floor, when a thought struck him. "Did you stop the vial of lionroot essence after you were done with it?"

"Er... maybe?" said Bea. The answer was actually no, now that she remembered, but she wasn't about to go all the way back just to settle Fred's neat freak twitch. "There weren't enough corks to go around."

He sighed, his feet already walking back. "Essence isn't like powder. It travels through air if you leave it long enough. By morning it'll all leak out and — "

Their eyes met with the same dread.

"_Shit,_" Bea breathed.

"Tell me you didn't put it in the same cupboard as the unicorn — "

The second boom of the night shuddered through the castle and they turned around quick enough to see the classroom door blast off from its hinges.

"_Run!_"

* * *

"_Blowing up my classroom... _Merlin's beard, never in my days..." Professor Ringleward shuffled back and forth in his slippers, shaking his head at the ground. "I can only imagine how you two are going to explain yourselves..."

Fred dragged a hand down his face. He could only imagine as well. But then, that was his job as point man, wasn't it?

Bea stood stock-still next to him, goldfish-mouthing ever since the professor caught them skidding past his office. "It... wasn't us?"

Professor Ringleward stopped pacing and squinted at her. It might have been intimidating, but he was still in his pajamas, and it was very difficult to take him seriously when the fluffy end of a sleeping cap swung in front of his nose.

His gaze dropped to Bea's bag. She gulped, and her grip tightened over the potion hidden inside.

"It wasn't us," repeated Fred, hoping to divert the professor's attention. He adjusted his collar, trying to remember what James always did to win over everyone he met. "We... saw some second years run out, and we wanted to check to see what they were up to — "

" — and then before we knew it — " Bea clutched at the air and broke apart her hands. " — brrrrfffooom!"

Fred decided against figuring out a better explanation. "What she said."

Professor Ringleward lowered his glasses, the wrinkles on his brow pushing together with each increment of skepticism. "And what were you two doing up after curfew in the first place?"

Fred and Bea glanced at each other.

"Forgot my quill at the library — "

"Got lost coming back from the loo — "

They glanced at each other again.

"Then we found my quill in the loo — "

"Ended up at the library — "

Fred sucked in a sigh, half-waiting for James to swoop out of the shadows and save them. James could talk his way into getting _praised _for blowing up a classroom.

"Snogging," came a voice.

A tall brunette stepped between them. Her approach was so quiet that neither had noticed her presence until then, but now her fingers rested atop Fred's shoulder and she could hardly be ignored.

"They're too embarrassed to admit that I caught them snogging in the hallway earlier," she said.

Bea coughed violently, choking on her eruption of giggles, while Fred let himself die a little inside. He hoped people thought he had better taste than that. He glanced up at the girl's face, framed in candlelight.

Anjali Patil-Davies, Slytherin Prefect.

She was one year below him — the same as Bea — and she had always struck him as one of _those _girls, the kind who didn't give a rat's arse about anyone but herself.

So what was she doing intervening?

"Ah, Miss Davies!" said Professor Ringleward, softening. "I wasn't aware you were on-duty this floor. Did you see what happened?"

"A couple boys ran out of the room — fairly short, looked like third years. These two were just at the wrong place at the wrong time." There was a certain air about her. Authoritative. Intimidating. Maybe it was the legs that went on forever. The sharp line of her jaw. Fred didn't like it.

"Well, then. You two are very lucky Miss Davies can back you up." He shook a finger first at Bea and then to Fred. "Let this be a lesson to keep this late-night canoodling out of Hogwarts. The portraits see all! Don't disgrace the eyes of our dear departed with your shameless baby-making!"

Fred shuddered at the idea of little tangled-hair Beas running around his feet, all equally unhygienic and ADD. While he would have preferred a more flattering lie, at least they were off the hook for now.

The professor cleared his throat. "So if it wasn't them..."

Anjali bowed her head. "I wasn't able to get a look at the real culprits' faces. Sorry. My fault."

There was something so familiar about her tone and posture. The words 'James Potter's Patented Procedures for Pandering to Profs' trickled into Fred's mind along with tip number one: admit responsibility for the smallest of infractions in order to appear trustworthy.

Professor Ringleward waved a wrinkled hand. "There's no need to apologize, my girl. You can't control the little... _heathens _running around the grounds these days with distracting Muggle whim-whams up the wazoo. Rubbish parenting... it's pandemic!"

"I couldn't agree more." She smiled, all pearly-white teeth and dimpled cheeks. "But I'm sure whoever did this didn't mean any harm. Probably wanted to admire your beautiful new chess collection."

Fred frowned. There went number two: chit-chat on a favorite hobby to butter them up. This girl was good.

"Ah yes!" The professor' face lit up. "Carved by the master LaFette himself, you know. None of those mass-produced knockoffs you see flooding the markets these days... _blasted Wiz*Mart..._"

"I still feel awful that I wasn't able to catch whoever did this." She bowed her head again, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. Her other hand played with the hem of her shirt. The sheer exaggeration of her apology made Fred want to laugh, but the professor was falling for it. Why couldn't he do that? "I completely failed my prefect duties. I'll clean up this mess myself — I'll even organize your vials — "

"Oh no, no, no. No need for that — "

"Well, at least let me escort these two back to their common room." Anjali rested her fingers on the two Ravenclaws' shoulders, rings winking in the light. "I shan't bother you any more than necessary, Professor."

"Now, now, it's never a bother. Haven't got a finer example of a future success than you." Professor Ringleward fumbled with the glasses on his nose and squinted at Bea and Fred. "I suggest that you two to learn a little something from her."

They forced out a smile and followed Anjali's signal to start walking. As soon as the professor shuffled back into his office, Bea turned to their savior with a wide grin. "That was brilliant!"

"Offer to do an outrageous favor the professor will obviously refuse and then offer a much smaller one so that it seems as if you're doing a lot," said Fred, reciting the last of the tricks. "Very clever."

"Child's play." Anjali's eyes flicked to his, the only slip of recognition she had given to him all night. "Couldn't do it yourself? I expected more from Potter's old wingman. I'm disappointed."

The words cut into him, unexpectedly sharp and sudden, even though this girl's opinion should have no hold over him. Fred was a man of pride. Even more so, he put his pride in his position. Indeed, he had been the famed James Sirius Potter's wingman until James graduated. Fred should have known how to handle a mundane hallway interrogation. He had gotten into stickier situations before — literally (may he never remember the horror of the adhesive ducks) — and yet, how he failed now.

But he couldn't let that though show. He sniffed at Anjali, pulling at the knot of his tie. "Please, you hardly know me."

Bea punched him on the shoulder. "Don't be a snippy bippy. You weren't the one who got us out of there. He means_ thanks_, Anj."

The glare Anjali sent her practically turned the hallway arctic. "_Don't _call me that."

Deflated, Bea retreated into herself and hugged her book bag, sending sulky glowers to the both of them. "_Two _snippy bippies. I don't even know why we're taking the long way back."

Fred's next step froze in mid-air. He had been so engrossed with his winnowing self-esteem that he completely missed the fact that they were, at this point, walking _away _from the Ravenclaw tower. He ran to catch up and pulled Bea's robe to hold her in place, lest she follow the Slytherin girl to who-knew-where. "You're not taking us back at all."

"Your powers of observation astound me." Anjali spun on her heel, lips curving into a smirk. "Consider it a detour."

Charmingly infuriating. Just like James.

She continued walking down the hallway and Bea tore out of his grasp to follow.

"Bea! We should at least think about — "

Bea stopped only to grab his sleeve. "Don't tell me you aren't curious."

It was times like these that Fred wondered if he was too old to be running around school with the most explosion-prone girl Hogwarts had ever seen. He was only a year older, but that year made a sea of difference.

Though he had grown fond of Bea's world of blueprints and prototypes, it was life in the present. As a responsible seventh year, he needed to think about life in the future, which definitely shouldn't involve following suspicious leggy Slytherins into torchlit darkness.

Unfortunately, he _was _curious. Curiosity killed the Kneazle and while it had eight other lives to spare, he didn't. He was smarter than some silly feline, right? Though he never could figure out how Mr. Welly always outfoxed him to the treat tin.

Counter-argument aside, Bea was already pulling him forward, and he knew that she was going to go, with or without him.

He sighed, fixed his tie again, and started walking.

* * *

**A/N** Since I get asked this a lot, I'll clarify: Bea is Cho Chang's daughter, and there's a reason why her last name is Chang and not her father's name.

**Coming up: Smarmy!Scorpius, endless biscuits, and the biggest upset since Snape vs. Dumbledore**


	2. A Biscuit a Day Keeps the Slytherin Away

**2. A BISCUIT A DAY KEEPS THE SLYTHERIN AWAY**  
_Hogwarts was desperately lacking in information kiosks. _

Not even a hallway's length later, Fred was already muttering about 'bad ideas' under his breath. He's consider it a marked improvement; usually he only took half that time to enter a full-length speech comparing the pros and cons (mostly cons) of Bea's latest escapade involving inventions and biscuits (mostly biscuits).

Fred was extraordinarily easy to peer pressure, something Bea never failed to take full advantage of. She said it was in his best interest. Nothing would ever get done otherwise. Wheezes products weren't going to build themselves, and she couldn't function on an empty stomach.

Following Anjali was just for fun, she had said during their walk. People who were smarter than Fred made him uncomfortable, and that was free entertainment.

His fingers dug into the silk at his throat, twisting it around with every grouse. "_Can't believe I'm doing this_," Fred muttered under his breath. "_No time to study with Pete anymore. Had to let myself get dragged out here... _'Let's start on that stalker salve!' _she says. Let's fuddle up my permanent records is more like it._"

Bea slapped his hand away from his tie and yanked the knot down. "You're going to choke yourself."

Which only caused him to actually choke. The whiplash caught him mid-whinge as he sputtered, "Oh God, not this again."

He desperately clawed at the tight noose, wincing as he heard the threads tear. Upon regaining control of his windpipe, Fred shot her an indignant glare and slid the knot back into into its original position.

"If you keep mumbling like that," she said, "you're going to end up like old Ring-ding-dongleward — senile before seventy."

The thought stopped his fiddling long enough to allow a gulp to go down.

"Oi, you two halves of a half-wit, keep up!" snapped Anjali. She disappeared around the corner with a quick twist of her steps.

It was obvious now that their destination was the Slytherin dungeons, the only part of the castle located that far on the west end. The path there was notoriously complicated, forking and looping like a Gordian knot gone wrong. Every first week of school, some first year would go missing for a whole day only to stagger out of the maze in the dead of night, gasping for food and water.

Anjali stopped at a wall and pressed a stone, whispering a password. It didn't help those poor first years that the entrance to the common room was a nondescript dead end (functionality was never high on the list for Hogwarts; the mysterious castle atmosphere, however, was).

The wall scraped apart. Bea and Fred hesitantly stepped in after her, unsure of what to expect. A pit of snakes? Plans for world domination? Dark Lords running amok?

The truth was unfortunately, quite boring. It looked no different than any other common room nearing the midnight hour: practically empty. There were still a few Slytherins about, studying and chatting. A few turned their heads toward them, but their attention didn't linger... except for a single grey-eyed gaze peering over the latest issue of _Magical Market_.

Scorpius folded his magazine together. "Back already?"

Anjali swept behind the sofa where he lounged, sliding her fingers through his hair as she passed. "Always underestimating me."

Scorpius reached for her hand, but she slipped away first, taking a seat on a nearby armchair.

"I still think you're out of your mind," she said, eyes flicking to the two Ravenclaws still standing by the doorway. "Putting your faith and allowance in _them?_"

He craned his head, holding an arm out toward her though she stayed out of range. "Brilliance and insanity are close cousins, darling."

Fred cleared his throat, already impatient with the banter between Hogwarts' hottest on-and-off couple. Unresolved sexual tension always shortened his fuse. "Sorry, but what are we doing here?"

"Guests! Where are my manners?" Scorpius leapt to his feet, smiling broadly. "Take a seat." He gestured toward the sofa behind him and then to the pastries assortment on the table. "If you're hungry."

"I — "

"_STRAWBERRY CAULDRON CAKE!_" Bea barreled past Fred and bounded onto the green cushions, sooty hand searching for the largest slice.

Scorpius flashed a triumphant grin. "See, she's got the right idea."

Sixth year girls and their uncanny ability in dragging him around. Fred sighed and took a seat on the opposite armchair, still ignoring the platter of food that was rapidly disappearing into Bea's stomach. "_Now _can you explain?"

"We got you out of a month of scrubbing cauldrons and not even a thank you?" Scorpius sat back down, the easy charm still oozing out with every wave of his hand, and poured a cup of cocoa for himself and Anjali. "I get it. The point man wants to get to the point. Expected and appropriate." He raised a finger. "But also very boring."

"Boring, he's got you on that," said Bea in between chews. She handed Fred a plate of Jammie Dodgers. "Come on, eat. It's already past curfew anyway. It's not like we can get in any more trouble."

Scorpius nodded and reached over to take one for himself. "It's like you're completely in sync with me. Beautiful friendship in the making." On cue, he and Bea knocked their biscuits together.

Loyalty, thy name is Bea.

Reluctantly, Fred took a biscuit, sniffing it for poison. _Someone _had to be the "boring" one. He liked to think his role as the suit-and-tie point man rather than active troublemaker was a noble sacrifice, but honestly, he didn't mind. It put his conscience at ease to know his friends were safe and not being taken advantage of by offers of free biscuits.

Plus, point men wore suits, and he looked bloody good in a suit.

When the aura of Fred's chagrin grew too much to ignore, Scorpius set his food down on his saucer. "All right, let's get to it. It's very simple."

First alarm bell. Simple never meant simple.

"I want to work with you two on your current product."

"The salve?" blinked Fred.

"No, your other one. The transistor, the er Muggle-Magic Converter."

Fred sat up straighter. It was their long-term project, though they were only working on it because Bea was so insistent about it: an attachment for Muggle technology that would allow them to be powered by magic. Problems with interference had long prevented any electronics to gain ground in the magical community. It was a revolutionary idea but, unfortunately, still more concept than reality.

"I heard Bea chatting about it in Potions. Got my interest quick. I figure, why wait until my parents retire? I might as well get started on this business thing early, which leads me to... buying your prototype."

"Mrfggh?" Bea sputtered out crumbs in her surprise. Fred handed her a napkin, no less surprised himself.

They were used to making products on the scale of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a small time joke shop. The Malfoys were on the complete opposite of the spectrum. They turned the Greengrass empire into a household name. What began as a tiny two-way mirror shop in Diagon Alley skyrocketed into a sixteen country franchise with bestselling products every season. Filthy rich didn't even begin to describe it.

"Now, we can negotiate prices," continued Scorpius, in an irritatingly posh voice that made Fred cringe, "and I assure you, no price is too high. It'll be better than whatever share your dad's giving you for these things. All I'm asking for is for you to finish it by February in time for our company's expo."

Despite his cool front, Fred could tell he was rushing things. There was more up his sleeve, though the taste of money was already on his tongue. "February? That's too soon. It's not as simple as our Wheezes products. She's — we've been working for months and we still haven't got a testable prototype — "

Scorpius raised a second finger. "Haven't got to the best part of my offer yet. Full financial backing to cover all the costs of the materials, tools, _explosion insurance_..." He trailed off, glancing at Bea, whose hair looked like it was trying to breed soot bunnies. "And Anjali here can get you out of trouble in no time flat. Anything to get it by that deadline."

It was good. Too good. "Why are you so interested?"

"I see a lot of potential. I had some photos taken."

"You've been watching us?"

"Well, I have to practice my corporate espionage skills too." With a smirk, he tossed Fred the folder. "But no worries, it was recon, not poaching. You have a potential hit on your hands there. The communications market is stagnant. Find a way to make laptops and mobiles work in high-magic areas, and it'll be the biggest thing since the Boy Who Lived."

Fred sifted through the snapshots but most of them were dark and blurry. "These photos are awful."

"_Eh!_" cried a shrill voice. On the other side of the room, twelve-year-old Louis was shaking his camera in the air indignantly. "They are_ avant-garde!_"

"You took these?" Fred waved around the photos in his grip as Louis squeaked with every new crease. "You don't go doing that to family, mate!"

"Family who do not understand my _artiste _are no family of mine!" He turned around in a huff before Fred could respond. Damned Veelas.

"Nice kid," said Scorpius, glancing back. He took up his saucer, replacing the empty space on the table with one foot then the other. "I can see that you're not convinced about the proposal yet. Take your time — " he raised a finger " — but not too much. Deals like these don't stay on the table for long."

"And let me guess, the next time, it might not be just recon," Fred murmured, pinching the folder closed.

Scorpius made no attempt to hide his sneer. "I suppose you're not a point man for nothing." Next to him, Anjali's cool stare continued its silent intimidation, unchanged during the entire conversation. Godric, she was a scary one.

They were toying with him and they wanted to make sure he knew it.

A loud gulp broke the tension and Fred turned to see Bea licking stray crumbs off her fingers. Noticing his gaze, Bea blinked. "Oh, are you asking me what I think?"

"Ah, Beatrice!" Scorpius slid down the sofa, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "Maybe you can convince Fred to decide faster." He handed her a wafer, and she lazily dunked it into his cocoa.

"Well, it's not like he decides for the both of us. This is a partnership!" She stuffed the wafer in her mouth whole, entering a deep state of sugar-zen.

Scorpius nodded in full agreement. "I concur. Here, take the whole plate."

"Thanks!" She stuffed another wafer in her mouth just for the fun of it. "Though I suppose it doesn't really matter what he wants because, let's face it: I do most of the work. No offense, Freddie."

"Offense taken," muttered Fred. What did he need to do to be appreciated? Roll around in sugar? Perhaps this could have all been avoided if he had just gone on a biscuit run like she wanted.

"You know Bea, I like your type." Scorpius squeezed her shoulder. "Far more agreeable than your partner here. No fun at all, getting all suspicious already. But _you_, on the other hand, why don't we talk prices — "

"Prices?" Bea dissolved into giggles. "I never said I would work with you."

His grin froze. "Sorry?"

She shoved him playfully. "Are you kidding me? You can't pay me enough to agree to this."

Scorpius' plastered good-naturedness cracked into a halting chuckle. "I — I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."

"You mean money? That's not worth selling my soul."

"I didn't say — "

"Please." Her nose wrinkled. "Corporations are the Horcrux-makers of this generation: killing people's creative visions in the quest for profit maximization." She whipped around to Fred, clapping her hands. "Clever isn't it, I've been waiting to use that line — _ooh _are those Pickled Plumfish?" Bea hauled the entire jar of sweets from the table onto her lap.

Fred sat in open-mouthed silence. It wasn't as if he had never seen Bea make a sensible decision, but sensible decisions and a sugar-hungry stomach never mixed. She would jump off the astronomy tower for far less than the decadence laid out on the coffee table.

Scorpius yanked her prize away from her, leaving her empty fingers hanging in the air. "Focus, you're missing out on the deal a lifetime — "

"Well, it certainly doesn't help if you insist on being a snippy bippy, too," she said, reaching for the open top of the jar, but Scorpius pulled it even further away from her.

"What's the problem? _I'll fix it_," he said with every effort at civility.

"Rich people and their fragile egos." Bea rolled her eyes. "Just before, you were threatening Freddie every other sentence. An entire conversation with your eyes. Glare, glower, glare — _get a room._"

"This is a _complete _misunderstanding — "

"Yes, you're misunderstanding that you don't have a chance."

"I get the feeling that you just don't like me."

"That too."

"_I fed you._"

"Your bribes were delicious and unsuccessful."

Bea took another piece of cauldron cake, frowning at baffled silence. "What is so surprising about this? I'm not Vixen McSexylegs like her — " She pointed to Anjali, whose jaw dropped, scandalized, her facade finally broken. " — but just because I'm a bit nutty doesn't make me stupid. I know how this works. I've done this inventing business for long enough — don't think this hasn't happened to me before. You're going to take advantage of us, and Fred might be afraid of you but I'm not."

The priceless silence continued.

"Fred, Freddie, look," said Bea, bouncing excitedly. "Anj looks ready to murder me."

McSexylegs snarled, nostrils flaring.

On that note, Fred snapped back into action, pushing himself up from the armchair. "Er, let's get out of here while we're still ahead, yeah?"

"Right, you still owe me a treacle tart!" Bea leapt to her feet and waved to Scorpius, who was too stunned to protest. "Thanks for the food!" She pulled Fred by the wrist, leading him out with a skip.

When Fred looked back, Scorpius was looking right at him. "Remember," said Scorpius, who seemed to have regained a modicum of composure, "a lot of money to you is nothing for me. You know it's a good deal."

That was the last Fred saw and heard, before the entrance sealed shut. Bea shook her head. "The nerve of some people," she scoffed. "What a ridiculous offer, am I right? As if they think we'd fall for that."

Fred smiled lightly, patting her atop her head for a job well done, but he could not deny the echo of Scorpius' last words lingering in his thoughts.

* * *

**Coming up: The Good, the Bad, and the Rose; Albus the Hufflepuff; Scorpius the Smarmy**

"Snoopy boopy is what you are," Bea muttered. She took his bribe that lay on her table and thrust it back at him. "Mind your own business, Malfoy. I mean that in two ways."

"What, dropped the ditzy act already?" He took the cake from her, tossing it from hand to hand in a casualness matching his ruffled hair and carelessly thrown-on blazer. "Fine. Don't take my presents." His lips curled up. "Can't say I won't cause some trouble instead."


	3. Sweet, Sweet Revenge

After three attempts at the knocker's riddle (the recent trend in sarcastic questions had made answering them quite difficult), Bea and Fred stumbled into the empty common room. Bea, in the dreaded middle stages of a sugar crash, collided onto the sofa face first. Fred sat down in what little space was left.

He rummaged through her bag and took out the vial, sloshing it back and forth. "Think we can finish this soon?"

Bea lifted her head, stringy hair clinging to her cheeks after the staticky greeting with the sofa's upholstery. "Probably. Got to mix it with the flobberworm something and red whatsamacallit." She waved a lazy hand. "I've got it written down somewhere on my desk."

In all honesty, the best finder in Hufflepuff couldn't unearth anything in the trash heap known as her desk. It was, at one point, the reason for thirteen out of Hogwarts' fifteen health violations.

"So." Fred cleared his throat, folding his hands together. "Malfoy's offer..."

"He's always like this, s'not surprising in the least." Bea rolled over, her hair in no better shape than before. From far away, one might have mistaken her for an upturned sheepdog. "Two classes with him again this year, did I tell you? I thought I got rid of him after O.W.L.S. too! They say — don't quote me on this — but they say that his dad bribed the proctor for O's."

"Right."

There was something off about Fred's expression, though it might have been the blood rushing to her head or possibly the fact that his face was upside down. She rolled over. "Fred?"

"Hmm?"

"You seem quiet."

"Ah — no." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Just, er, thinking about things. You know, uh," — his mouth shaped vague words — "_things._"

Bea nodded airily. "Speaking about things, about that tart..." She held out her cupped hands.

Fred pat her on the head. "Tomorrow. I'm tired."

She frowned as he leapt off the sofa. "But you _promised._"

"Come on, you're already full with what Malfoy fed you." It was at that moment that his pace picked up.

Bea called after him, "_You don't have one, do you?_" but he was already gone. Crossing her arms, she huffed to herself. Treacle tart was a serious matter.

After languishing on the sofa for another dessert-deficient minute, Bea tromped up the stairs to her room. She had long lost track of time, only certain that it was late enough for another scolding from Rose. Sounds of muffled chatter filtered through the door to her dorm as she approached. Just as her fingers brushed the knob, it swung open, assaulting her with the sight of Rose in her pink paisley nightgown, staring down at her.

Behind was Lucy, popping her head out of the bathroom, beard of foam hanging from her chin. "See," she mumbled through her toothbrush, "_told _youf she washn't deadth."

"Where have you been?" Rose barked.

Bea squeezed past. "You know, studying... reading... _things._"

Before Bea could reach her desk, Rose intercepted her and fluffed her hair, where a telltale cloud of grey soot escaped. Rose gasped, "_You_ caused that explosion!"

While Rose was better at _trying_ to be intimidating than _actually_ being intimidating, she sometimes managed a wild look that would make Moody himself proud — eyes bulging from their sockets, two degrees from igniting in flames. It was scarier than Ringleward's detentions and Anjali's legs combined.

Bea shrank into herself until Lucy came over and herded her cousin to the other side of the room. "It's too late for super prefect mode," Lucy muttered, trying to get Rose to stay put. Rose was like a meerkat, perched at the edge of her bed. "And don't be so surprised. Who else could it have been? What matters is, did anyone find out?"

"Yeah, Ringleward." Bea tried to find a safe place to store the potion. Her desk, with its wobbly leg and precarious slant — the consequence of piling five times its weight in junk on one side — looked like it was about to keel over and die. The only clear spot on the table was... well, there really was no clear spot on the table.

"Well, then? Tell us what happened."

"Oh, nothing much." _You know, breaking into classrooms, nicking things, glaring property damage. The usual. _Rose would have a fit if she knew the extent of it. "Anj told Ringleward we didn't do it," she added as an afterthought while she dislodged her potions rack from the mess.

Rose ground her teeth. "_That bitch?_"

"That bitch" was Rose's nickname for Anjali. Other known variations were 'that Slytherin bitch', 'that skinny bitch', or Lucy's favorite, 'that my-dad's-an-international-Quidditch-star and my-mom's-the-heiress-for-the-biggest-potion-export er-in-India _woop-de-fucking-doo_ bitch'. According to Rose, Anjali abused her authority like no other prefect; that night was just further proof. Coupled with the staff's complete adoration of her, she more than grated on Rose's nerves.

Lucy rolled her eyes. "If you're going to keep looking like a gargoyle every time something or someone you hate gets mentioned, you should count yourself lucky he hasn't met you in person yet."

Verona Wood, who had been comfortably asleep, lifted the edge of a blindfold with a weary groan. "Are we talking about Colin _still? _Bloody hell, Rose, you're worse than Lucinda and her crushes."

Colin was the pen pal Rose had acquired over the summer, a student of the Arthurian Academy of Magic, and the mere mention of his name reduced Rose to a stuttering loon.

Rose fussed with the ruffles of her nightgown, trying not to blush. "N-no, of course not. Lucy's being stupid. It's not like I _like_ him or anything," she said, as convincingly as Voldemort teaching Muggle Studies.

The bunch of them had been talking about him all night, every night for the past week. How someone could dissect possible implications from each word of a letter — the context, the connotations, _the handwriting_ — was beyond Bea's comprehension, and she knew quantum theory.

Now, where was that flobberworm juice?

"Please," said Verona, "the denial's getting sad. You're starting a whole organization for him."

"He supports a good cause!" Rose crossed her arms. "Cecilia and Maisie already joined up, and Lucy helped me name it. Students for Underrepresented Creature Kind and Squibs."

"That spells S-U-C-K-S."

There was a long silence, punctuated by Lucy's stifled laughter, in which Rose ran the name through her head again. "Oh well, n-no, you forgot the 'for' and 'and'..."

"Right," Verona drawled. "_S-F-U-C-K-A-S._ Much better."

Rose gave an indignant cry and whipped around to face her guilty cousin. "You_ knew_ about this!"

"Of course I knew about it," she giggled. "I'm still rather fond of your other choice, 'Students of Hogwarts Institution for Teenage Squibs'."

"Well, only because it's about all minority rights, not just Squibs — " Rose stopped suddenly and her face contorted again. "_Lucy Weasley, does that spell S-H-I-T-S?_"

Another peal of giggles erupted from Lucy until Rose lunged at her with a pillow and started suffocating her. Bea was quite accustomed to working in a din of quarreling; it was a requirement for living with diametric cousins and a grouchy Quidditch captain. What Bea never understood was why anyone would think _she_ was strange when everyone else was so much worse.

_"I AM NOT LETTING GO OF THIS PILLOW UNTIL YOUR HAIR TURNS BLUE FROM ASPHYXIATION!"_

Bea hummed a tune as she continued her search. She brushed away the metal bits scattered over her desk — bits and pieces from the transistor shell construction. At the center of the mess was the prototype itself, with all its wires exposed, glowing blue like an arachnid nightmare come alive.

Placing her prototype back in its box, she dug through her sock drawer, surprised that the sock gremlins haven't stolen any that year yet (they were not just a fairy tale, as she once vehemently defended from the giggles of the common room). A bottle rolled out from the back. There was little Flobberworm juice left, just enough for a single batch.

"_C..._" Lucy clawed at the pillow, muffled syllables barely audible in her gasps. "_C-Colin wouldn't want to date a murderer!_"

_"AZKABAN HAS A ONE LETTER PER MONTH POLICY, WE CAN MANAGE!"_

"Actually, it's two months," Bea chirped, looking back, but Rose didn't seem to hear her and Lucy was too busy turning blue.

Meanwhile, Verona, while typically more of a take-out-the-popcorn-and-watch-the-fun sort of girl, began prodding Rose with the end of her broomstick. "Could you two, I dunno, settle this in a quieter fashion? Poison her breakfast or something?"

"_Oh fine!_" Rose threw her pillow aside and continued glaring as Lucy crawled her way back to her bed. "I hope I caused permanent damage."

Verona burrowed into her quilt. "Bea, don't you have class early? Shouldn't you sleep?"

Bea perked up at the mention of her name. "Erm, yeah..." Now that Verona mentioned it, she was quite tired. She was also in desperate need of a shower, not that anyone expected her to be hygienic.

Well, wouldn't want to disappoint expectations. The shower could wait until morning.

She changed out of her robes and, as the last one out of bed, snuffed out the candles. The room drooped into sleep and darkness, lit by only the moon and the soft glow of her prototype.

* * *

"_Beeea! We're going to be late!_"

Bea shot up from her bed at Lucy's screech, coughing; the soot that had settled on her pillow overnight had swept up again and was now taking residence in her windpipe. She stumbled out of bed, a lucky flail of the arms keeping her from tripping over her blankets. Rubbing the dusts off her cheeks, she followed the fluffy trail of carpet until she reached the door frame of the bathroom.

This was prior to opening her eyes. The actual act of opening her eyes was an entire effort in itself. She felt along the counter for the sink, twisting both temperature knobs until the tap was at full force and splashed her face with water.

Then came the hard part. With a heave, she cracked open an eyelid...

"Gah!"

...and promptly regretted standing in the only spot in the bathroom where the sunlight bounced off the mirror at the exact angle into her retina.

"_Beeeeea! Hurry up!_"

"Burning... everything is burning..." Bea whimpered as she tottered around, spots circling her vision. Somewhere in the filing cabinets of her mind, she dug out the list of morning duties and crossed them off.

Clean teeth, scrub face, wash hair —

_Wash hair._

In the milliseconds before she made her next move, she calculated the likely amount of time she had before class started. If Lucy, who usually referred to sleeping well past breakfast as "early", then her wails to hurry up meant she was really, _really_ late.

Sink shower it was.

She stuck her head under the tap and felt around the counter until she found her shampoo. It was only after working it into her hair that the choking fragrance reached her nostrils. A glance at the bottle told her everything she feared.

_Madame Luxury's Sparkling Scented Shampoomph  
(now with extra Oomph)_

It was Rose's shampoo, the one marketed as smelling like fairies which apparently meant concentrated sugarplum syrup, a level of sweetness too much for even Bea. Holding her breath, she shouldered on. Her first class was Potions, and she did not need to get on Ringleward's bad side again.

With sopping wet hair, Bea and Lucy scrambled across the castle and burst into the classroom just as students were setting up their cauldrons. Ringleward was nowhere in sight. Lucy trotted off to her partner Reggie, while Bea found Albus in the back and slumped down onto a stool next to him.

"Sorry, about that," she panted. "Woke up late and... where's Ringleward?"

At that moment, the white-haired professor emerged from the back room carrying a box of shrivelfigs, beady eyes peering at Bea. She held her breath as he made his way toward the demonstration cauldron.

"The potion of interest today will be the Euphoria, page two hundred sixty," he said. "Not in the syllabus, but over the weekend, some rascal whippersnappers got my classroom 'wasted' as you youngins like to say..." He muttered something about leashing children.

Albus nudged Bea. "I heard that was you and Fred," he whispered. "Also, you're shiny today."

"Wrong shampoo." Bea flipped through her edition of _Advanced Potions-Making._ "And it _was_ me and Fred, but Anj vouched."

"Anj? Anjali? _That _Anjali?"

Bea glanced to her left where Albus was pointing. At the adjacent table was the aforementioned prefect and Scorpius in all his smarmy glory. The former looked as bored as ever, while the latter saluted her with a cheeky wave.

"Nutcase! Good to see you."

Bea gawked. Albus waved back until she slapped his hand away.

"I didn't know you were friends with them," Albus chirped.

"I'm not — "

Bea was shut up by another pointed glare from Professor Ringleward. "Five points from Ravenclaw for idle chatter, Miss Chang."

The other Ravenclaws grumbled. Across, a duo of Slytherins sniggered to themselves until Ringleward steeled his gaze on them as well. He cleared his throat. "Now where was I — ah! And so, further studies on the Draught of Peace must be rescheduled for next week. The Euphoria Elixir is a very potent happiness inducer..."

Scorpius leaned close, resting an elbow on their table. "You know, if you had agreed to our deal, we could probably find some way to get those points back."

Bea resisted looking up, lest she draw Ringleward's attention again. The nerve of him! It was no coincidence that he and Anjali were sitting there, no indeed. Scorpius returned to his seat, and at the corner of her eye, Bea saw that he had left a present in the form of a wrapped mini cauldron cake. She looked away, salivating.

When Professor Ringleward finally let the assignment commence, Albus dove for the stirring spoon. Bea slapped his hand away again.

"Not even this time?" Albus sighed.

"_Never ever _means not this time, too."

Albus had taken charge of making the potion base exactly once in their two-year potion partnership, which resulted in a catastrophic cauldron tsunami and pink hair for a week. He was only scraping by because James had asked Bea to help him. Albus insisted on the torture; he had it in his mind that he _absolutely_ needed a N.E.W.T. in Potions to get a decent job, despite the fact that he had well enough connections to make up for his shortcomings.

Bea threw in a handful of fish bones into the cauldron, and scanned for the next step in the instructions. "Oh, and Albus? Remember to crush those beans three at a time. And then do the red ones, too."

A different voice butt in. "Merlin, you're_ pushy._"

She lifted her eyes from the book. Scorpius was leaning against the table, a finger on his chin. "Or is it shushy pushy? Bossy flossy?"

"Snoopy boopy is what you are," Bea muttered. Taking his sugary bribe from her table, she thrust it back at him. "Mind your own business, Malfoy. I mean that in two ways."

"What, dropped the ditzy act already?" He tossed the cake from hand to hand. "Fine. Don't take my presents. Can't say I won't cause some trouble instead."

"I'll report you."

"For what? I'm not the one filching from the cupboards."

She stiffened.

"Is it Fred?" Scorpius mused, stroking his chin. "Is that why you're so irritated? He likes my offer, maybe?"

"Fred would never want to work with someone as... as _smarmy_ as you." Sticking out her tongue, Bea shoved him back to his own table and jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "Stay away from those types, Albus. Think they own the world."

"Kind of do, though. I hear the Malfoys have their own private theme park." Albus' eyes lit up. "Did he offer you a job? 'cause you should take it — "

"Al! Not helping! _Beans!_"

He sighed and pounded his pestle. Bea stirred the mixture counterclockwise three times and then frowned at the book. "These editions still don't fix the side-effects."

Many mistook breaking into song as an intentional side-effect of the Euphoria, but it was actually a poor measuring of wormwood. Indeed, it was how Hogwarts' now-annual flash mob had started. Bea racked her brain. Mint ought to fix it. She tossed a sprig into the cauldron.

Albus glanced at his book. "That's not what this says — "

"Ah ah ah!" Bea shook the spoon at him. "Golden Rule?"

He deflated. "Beatrice is always correct."

"And?"

He bowed his head further. "Beatrice will receive one chocolate frog every week for being such a benevolent sensei, gracing me with her presence and wisdom."

She _was_ doing him a favor. Bea held out her hand, and he fumbled through his pockets, quickly producing a chocolate frog box. She beamed and lifted the cover. Her stomach had been growling ever since she gave up that cake. "Sensei will allow you to take the spoon while she — " She stared at the headless chocolate frog knocking against the sides sightlessly. "Albus, this is half-eaten."

"I got hungry," he said, lowering his head so far that it touched the desk.

"What is it with your family and promised food? Always eaten, defeats the purpose..." she muttered, plucking the frog between her fingers and dropping it into her mouth.

Albus cringed, gaze trailing from her sticky hands to the preparation table. "That's... unsanitary."

"Well I'm not going to let it suffer!" she retorted, tongue thick with chocolate. "It was out of _pity._" He didn't stop staring, so she pointed at his workstation. "Beans!"

He slouched. "I've been mashing them for ages. Aren't they done?"

"Fine, put them in carefully — " She frowned. The cauldron was bubbling, There wasn't anything in the Euphoria potion that caused bubbling. "What did you add in here?"

"I didn't add anything. You won't let me." He peered closer at the mixture, prodding at it with the spoon.

Bea shuffled him away while the churning intensified. "Don't do that! At least go douse the fire. And Fred thinks _I'm_ not safe." She clamped on the lid.

Albus sat, wringing his hands. "Erm, it's getting louder — "

"I know _thaaaat_ — " She shut her mouth with a squeak.

He blinked. "Did you just sing?"

"Bloody wormwood in the _chocolaaaate!_" But her off-key warble was drowned out by the rumbling underneath her hand. In an violent hiccup that caused no small number of shrieks from nearby brewers, the cauldron spit out a sickening ochre mixture onto the surrounding floor and onto the feet of Professor Ringleward, who had unfortunately chosen that moment to walk past.

The professor lowered his glasses. "Quite an affinity for attracting explosions lately, I see."

"I didn't — it waaaasn't — " she sputtered.

"I expect you two to stay after class to clean this."

Bea nodded weakly while the amusement from onlookers crescendoed in the background, culminating in a jeer from Phillip Goyle, who was hardly one to talk with black-as-tar mixture, "Oi, you make potion _inside_ the cauldron!"

Whirling to Albus, Bea hissed — or rather, belted out dramatically, "_Whaaat haaaappened?_"

But she didn't need to be a Potions expert to put two and two together when she turned back around and saw the offending bottle still in Scorpius' hand. Wheezes' patented Fizzpoppers.

Scorpius grinned broadly. "These are quite well-made. Your design?"

She pointed at him, extending her arm to full-length for maximum effect. "_Youuuuu!_"

He held up his hands. "I warned you I'd cause trouble. No one says no. That'd be bad for business." He nudged Anjali. "Ruthlessness is rather becoming for me, isn't it?"

"You do have the most delectable smirk when your plans go right," she replied mildly, attention stuck to the cauldron.

He moved closer, trying to break her indifference. "You're always delectable."

A small smile escaped. "Charmer."

Bea nearly threw up.

As Scorpius reached for the Shivelfig juice, his gaze still on Anjali, Bea saw an opening. Moving on vengeful instinct, she switched the vial from underneath his hand. He emptied it into the mixture with a flair matching his sweet talk.

The cauldron immediately burst into purple flames, splashing potion everywhere. Anjali shrieked. Scorpius scrambled to find the lid, but it was too late; the damage was done.

"_What the Bloody Baron was that?_" he cried.

Professor Ringleward, who was quite tired of bustling across the room, plucked the vial from his hand and tapped at the label. "Adding flammable wraughtwort tends to have that effect, Mr. Malfoy. Any first year can tell you such. Have fun joining Miss Chang and Mr. Potter after class."

"But, but..." Scorpius stared at the vial. "That wasn't..."

Ringleward gave Anjali a sympathetic nod while she siphoned the goop off her skirt. "You have such patience with our less skilled brewers."

She plastered on a smile until he left to observe the next set of cauldrons, at which point she practically threw her textbook at Scorpius.

"You added _wraughtworts?_"

"I didn't even have wraughtworts out!"

"Have you lost your reading comprehension with your mind? Because that bottle clearly said _wraughtworts!_"

Bea sat in her stool, licking frosting from her upper lip. She wasn't sure which she was enjoying more: watching the spat in front of her or the cauldron cake she had snatched back during the ruckus.

In the end, it was no contest. Revenge tasted sweeter than sugarplums.


	4. A Perpetual Mess

**4. A PERPETUAL MESS**

_It was only a matter of time before someone took off their shirt. _

"Cleaning the old-fashioned way," said Professor Ringleward, collecting their wands. "If you cast as well as you brew, I fear for my cauldrons."

Bea, Albus, and Scorpius stood before him in varying degrees of sulk and slouch, dreading the long hour ahead of them. Ringleward conjured the necessary buckets and brushes from the closet and filled the rusty tin tubs with soapy water.

Scorpius picked up a brush, dropping it with a yelp when a family of spiders crawled out. His face twisted in horror. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I do not jest, Mr. Malfoy," Ringleward sniffed. "You younguns need to learn the value of elbow grease!"

With a flick of his wand, Scorpius' sleeves rolled up. Pleased, Ringleward dug his fingers under his collar and tottered to the back room. "Now where are those puffer-fish parts..."

In the room's silence, Bea took initiative and shuffled Albus toward the gunk, lugging a bucket behind her. She pointed at Scorpius, who was holding the brush at arms' length. "Bet he's never got his hands wrinkly in his life — doesn't even know which end is up."

Scorpius glowered and threw the brush emphatically into the bucket as if he was trying to prove something; mostly he just got his trouser leg wet.

Snickering, Bea dug into the depths of her bag and pulled out a half-filled canister labeled, _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Elbow Grease_. She scraped out a handful of the milky gel inside and then passed it to Albus with a wink.

He slathered it onto his brush and scrubbed the cauldron rim; the gummy potion slipped off with ease. "Bloody brilliant!"

"I know," grinned Bea. She had helped Uncle George design it.

She high-brush-fived Albus and got to work, humming a bright as sunshine tune. It had been proven that productivity increased threefold with song, though sometimes all one got were deer and bluebirds. It didn't last long when Scorpius slunk next to her.

"So," he said, eye glittering charm, "care sharing some of that brilliance? I've got some sugar quills."

The seconds ticked by, each stretching longer than the last, as Bea glowered at him. Was it the humming? The bubbly giggling she was prone to during Potions? She could, reluctantly, understand why people might think she was a ditzy little girl, easily bribed by sweets — which she very much resented, thank you very much — but did Scorpius really think she couldn't remember the gitface who threw Fizzpoppers in her cauldron half an hour ago?

Smiling impishly, Bea held out the canister, and with eager eyes, Scorpius reached in.

She clamped the lid down hard.

"Get lost," Bea hissed, whirling away as the Slytherin twitched, mouth frozen in a high-pitched scream.

She resumed scrubbing. Albus gulped and edged a little farther away. "Soo... how's your inventing coming along?" he asked, arm-deep in suds.

Bea swung back up to get more water and the blood rushed down her veins like a march of ants. She dunked her brush into the murky bucket. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Never enough supplies, never enough _biscuits... _the Stalker Salve is coming along nicely and the transistor... well, it is what it is."

"Need any help?" Albus had that too-eager tone, always the begging child wanting to play with the older kids, never mind that he was older than Bea by a few months. "I've been practicing my charms! I can unlock doors without breaking the whole handle now!"

"It's... not really..." She hated being the person who said no; it was such a Fred thing to do.

"I promise I won't get in the way if you don't want me to."

This happened _every_ time she had a new project. Albus had always been interested in the famed escapades of his older brother, harboring a not-so-secret wish to continue the legacy himself. But there were dreams and then there were pure fantasies, and Albus was average at best and awkward always, i.e. more trouble than he was worth.

She patted his hand. "Maybe next time."

Albus wilted and flopped down to the floor, but he didn't argue. After he reapplied the Elbow Grease on his brush, he looked behind him and then tugged on her sleeve.

"Bea? Maybe you were an eensy bit harsh with the Grease..."

Bea extracted herself from the mouth of the cauldron and put a sudsy hand on her hip, a vehement refusal about to leave her lips. Glancing at Scorpius, however, she couldn't quite find the heart to say it.

His brushing hadn't cleaned at all; in fact, it seemed only to dirty him up than actually clean anything. He was up to the arms in grime, perfectly pressed clothes stained, perfectly groomed hair limp — a sight more pitiful than a kitten stuck in a fishbowl.

With a heavy sigh, she took the canister of Elbow Grease out of her pocket and slid it over to Scorpius. "Don't get used to it," she muttered when he looked up. She dove back into the cauldron without sticking around for a response.

Bea kept her lips tight together when Albus wiggled in to scrub the opposite end. "That wasn't so bad," he said quietly.

Albus had tried this stunt many times before as well — his crusade to forge impossible friendships. He was a Hufflepuff; it was instinct to preach sunshine and rainbows.

"I know you have all these good intentions in mind," said Bea, "but really, you should stop trying."

"Oh _Bea,_" he said. She immediately winced; it was one of his rare moments of overconfidence, always with misguided intentions. "What's wrong with making a friend?"

A third head joined them. "Yeah, what's wrong with making a friend?"

Bea yelped, shooting up at the sight of blond hair. She knocked into Scorpius, and in turn, he knocked into Albus.

"Augh!"

"Ow..."

"Merlin," Scorpius staggered back, holding a hand to his temple. "You're_ literally_ thickheaded, too?"

An indignant noise escaped her mouth. Bea rubbed her head. "What were you _doing?_"

He put his hands in his pocket, as if being blasé would make her forget that he had just rammed her in the head. "Looked like a cozy friendship session going on, so I thought I'd join."

Soap flew through the air as Bea shook her brush at him. "People who are as _greasy_ as this cauldron are not welcome."

"That was uncalled for!" Albus exclaimed, snapping out of his canary-circling daze. "What if you hurt his feelings?"

Scorpius let out a stifled snort that turned into raucous laughter as he practically rolled on the floor. He gathered himself enough to choke out, "Oh yes, my _feelings_."

Albus wasn't entirely sure if Scorpius was serious and the ambiguity was sending him into a mild panic attack. Bea handed him her brush. "Scrub," she ordered.

And so he did.

Before Scorpius could open his mouth, Bea snatched and twisted his ear first, hissing, "Don't toy with Albus that way. He didn't do anything to you."

"Ah, ah! _Oi!_" He pulled away, stumbling into another cauldron. "Why are you taking everything so seriously for? I thought you were the fun one, nutcase."

"I don't think 'fun' means what you think it means, _Smarmy McSmarmypants._"

"You're more like your partner than I thought. Taking a page from _Killjoy Weasley?_"

Albus burst in. "Are we doing nicknames? I love nicknames — !"

Bea shoved a finger in his face and pointed downward at the floor. "Failbus._ Scrub._"

Sighing, he did.

"And _you._" She directed her finger to Scorpius' nose. The flash of belligerence dropped in favor of sticking up her chin. "If you want to get back on my good side, I'll accept a set of sugar quills, raspberry jelly slugs, or Fizzing Whizzbees."

Scorpius blinked. "I can buy your friendship but not your business?"

"I told you I'm not interested in any business, and I won't ever be. If I'm not selling an invention to Uncle George, I intend to distribute it myself."

An eyebrow shot up. "Really now?" His grin shone teeth that could've been from the big, bad wolf. "Do you really think you can do it? Starting up from scratch, getting the proper exposure, not to mention you haven't even finished _making_ the transistor, have you?"

"My business none of your business," she sniffed, unruffled. Turning her back to him, she crouched next to Albus to help him scrub the floor.

She knew, however, that Scorpius was too right; the transistor was dreadfully incomplete. The reality was that the components she demanded were well beyond her price range. If only she could make up for her lack of supplies with sheer moxie.

_Twelve strands of the thinnest of unicorn hair for wiring... the shell of a runespoor egg for a focus... a pinch of powdered dragon horn for an inhibitor..._

On top of it all, it was all theoretical — wiring that _might_ work with both Muggle circuits and magical energy, a focus that _might_ be powerful enough to act as both battery and converter, and an inhibitor that _might_ be able to stop the whole thing from blowing up. It was too many _mights_ for her wallet.

It was only after the third time Bea swished her brush around in the bucket that she realized that Scorpius made no further attempt to pester her with his businessman witticisms. No, he hadn't even made a sound.

Glancing up, she saw him — and lunged.

_"That's my bag!"_

Scorpius had it sitting on his knee, drawstring loosened. "I should think so. It says 'Bea Chang' right here on the tag." In his grasp was the empty vial she used yesterday for the sensory enhancer, which still had a few blue drops at the bottom.

He let her take the bag but kept the vial out of her way. "So tell me, aren't these supposed to be green or something? This is just sensory potion, isn't it?"

"It's — " Bea swung for it and missed again. "It's _augmented_. You don't drink it, you apply it."

"You can do that?" He held it at arm's distance, blocking her reach with his other hand. "How?"

"If you want to steal my ideas, you can be a little more subtle."

Scorpius snorted, throwing the vial to his other hand when Bea went around him. "I could just open a textbook and — "

"You won't find it in a textbook; they don't teach these sorts of things in there. You've got to fully understand the properties of the ingredients to — " Why was she wasting her breath? "_Give it!_"

"I'm not interested in stealing it. Call it curiosity."

"Be curious elsewhere!" Bea ran around him, but every grab was unsuccessful. She didn't need the vial but it was _hers_ and _he_ had it. Panting, she huffed, "The price for my good favor is now _two_ sets of sugar quills."

"_Two_ sets? Now that's just preposterous." He grinned, dabbing the last bit of potion on his nose. "Phew! This is strong stuff." He sniffed around. "Your hair smells like sugarplums."

Another lunge and a miss. Stupid shampoomph.

"Did you know I can tell the color of your knickers by the smell of your shampoo?"

Stupid Scorpius.

She heard Albus' voice behind her. "Bea, could you move for a sec?"

Stupid scrubbing.

But when she turned around, she didn't see scrubbing. Instead, Albus was struggling to hold a full bucket of water over his head. Her bag plummeted, contents scattering across the floor. "What — "

With a crash, the bucket came down onto Scorpius.

The fallout: water, water everywhere, and not a drop was clean. Bea's pant leg was drenched up to her knees but it was nothing compared to the full-body soak that Scorpius received. Hair and fabric clung to his skin, and his white shirt had turned a muddy see-through green.

Bea stared at Albus, and Albus stared at Scorpius, and Scorpius stared at himself.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Albus said quietly, "He wasn't being a very good friend."

Scorpius gasped through chattering teeth, "Truce."

Bea wrest her vial back and gave Albus a pat on the back. "You did good."

Albus beamed and returned to work. The Slytherin, now reduced to a shivering harmless mess, was a concern no more. A wet kitten in a fishbowl, indeed — and she wasn't fishing him out this time.

Bea then remembered that her bag was still on the floor and likely getting wetter by the second. She shuffled her nearby belongings back inside and ran around retrieving the rest of her things. The worst was finding her Remembrall, which had rolled clear across the room. She had nearly forgotten that it was in her bag, which would have been quite unfortunate without her Rememberall to remind her.

When she was satisfied that everything was accounted for, she ambled back to the other two, but one look at Scorpius made her stop.

Without his wand, Scorpius had resolved to drying himself off the tedious way. He had peeled off his shirt and wrung it out. Now draped over his shoulder, water dripped down his muscled torso.

His lack of a shirt that wasn't important, however. What was important was that he was reading a letter. A letter that had slid out of her bag and was the last thing she wanted him to see.

Scorpius saw her charging toward him too late to dodge, and Bea crashed into him, tearing the paper from him. She landed on top in a tangle, clutching a fragment. The sharp point of her elbow jammed down on his upper arm as she snatched the other half.

She didn't need both parts to know what was written on it. Bea had received it two nights ago and had stuffed it in the bottom of her bag to be forgotten, but the words still burned in the back of her mind.

**_Bea,_**

**_Mum's been overworking herself, so I told her to cut off your allowance. I'm already doing overtime at the Prophet, so the least you can do to help is not spend any more on that 'project', or whatever it is. N.E.W.T.S. is coming up, yeah? Get on it._**

**— Sasha**

"What the hell?" Scorpius groaned, swatting at the buckets that surrounded his head. He tried to get up but it was no use. For a small girl, Bea was heavy. "You don't have the money but — "

"But what? But I refuse _your_ money?" She tried to move off, but she couldn't find a footing against the slick floor and fell a second time against his shoulder.

He pushed her up. "I can help you!"

"You mean you can help yourself." She tore up the paper, smaller and smaller, and flung the pieces in his face.

"You don't even know if I'd cheat you!"

"I'm not going to let you try first!"

"What's all this ruckus — ah _my eyes!_" Professor Ringleward had hobbled in and was shielding his face, though his severe frown could still be seen. "Less canoodling, more cleaning! You are tainting the sanctity of my classroom!"

Bea scrambled, kicking from the Slytherin pinned underneath her. Albus pulled her to her feet and extended another hand to Scorpius, who shoved it away and got up on his own.

Ringleward waved his wand, drying up the flooded floor and returning supplies to their upright position. "Younguns, can't leave them alone for even a minute... _bah! _Shoo, shoo!" He thrust their wands back into their hands. "More trouble than you're worth, you lot..."

They hastily retrieved their books and bags. As soon as Bea slung hers over her shoulder, she grabbed Albus' wrist. "Come on."

"Where are we going — "

"I've changed my mind. I need your help."

* * *

_"Water, water everywhere..."_ is adapted from _Rime of the Ancient Mariner _by Samuel Coleridge.

**Coming up: A little walk on the dark side.**

Anjali reached for her glass, taking small sips as her gaze continued to bore into Fred. She looked as if she could devour him any time she wanted to; she certainly had the resources. Prefect, Quidditch captain, and a powerful family to back it up. "As much as I hate to share an opinion with your little girlfriend, you really are no fun."

"Bea's not my girlfriend," Fred declared for the umpteenth time and sipped his glass as well.

"Good on you. That makes the fact that you're clearly attracted to me a lot less inappropriate."


	5. Wingman (or Woman) Knows Best

**5. WINGMAN (OR WOMAN) KNOWS BEST**  
_The deadliest weapons in the world were a pair of long legs._

Fred smoothed out his copy of the _Daily Prophet_. He had waited so long for Bea that he had already read it all the way through. Besides a Muggle stumbling into the Ministry, looking for the loo, not much was new in the papers.

Scorpius' offer, along with all his irritating mannerisms, was still unfortunately stuck in his head, and it _might _have led to Fred working out the costs and profit margins that morning... and convincing himself that it'd be enough to sway Bea. The transistor was too expensive without outside help and she wouldn't refute numbers, right?

Bea would understand more if it were her wallet hurting. She paid for most of the supplies, but ever since her family hit trouble, she'd been borrowing more and more of the Wheezes money, not to mention Fred's time. His family might have been well off, but it was getting pretty darn irritating.

Scanning the Great Hall for a third time, he sighed. No, definitely no Bea. He wouldn't have missed her unmistakable frizzy hair in any crowd.

Anjali, however, caught his eye as she strode in through the west entrance alone. Fred frowned. She was always with Scorpius, and so where was Scorpius?

The dread doubled. Both Bea _and _Scorpius weren't there and Fred could only imagine what happened. Bea was small, but she packed a lot of vindictiveness for her size and it didn't take much to fire her up once she had a vendetta against someone. Did something happen in Potions? Had she tied the boy up, dangled him from some tree as Acromantula bait? Fred couldn't let that happen! Scorpius had the money!

And er, his life counted for something, too, Fred supposed.

While his thoughts strayed, Fred forgot that he was still staring at Anjali, who was now staring back, _Merlin's beard_. He dove into his food, trying to look preoccupied, but she started toward him with a most sour — yet alluring? — air.

A most unnerving shudder ran through his body as she neared. The Great Hall was big enough to literally hold the skies, but he was as good as cornered. She slid into the seat across from him, hands clasp together, eyebrow raised. "You were looking at me?"

He strained to find an excuse. "I was looking... behind you."

Fred wasn't usually so nervous, but he was ill-prepared for ambushes. That was the point of ambushes. He cleared his throat, trying to jostle himself into the proper mindset. Think clean lines, a well-tuned piano. Be suave and sharp, Fred Weasley. "The world doesn't revolve around you."

"...right." Anjali took a plate from the stack, which immediately conjured up a small salad.

Oh Fawkes. She was staying.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here." When she glanced up, Fred couldn't help but notice how long her lashes were. Pretty girls were always the most lethal, distracting men with their slender black widow legs and hazy perfume. Being pretty was certainly useful if they were in the profession of entrapping poor blokes who had something they wanted.

Oh _Fawkes._

"Well, are you or are you not?" Anjali set her fork down and rested her chin on the back of her hands. "Or are you going to keep staring at me?"

As much as Fred was about to do the latter, he managed to answer, "I'm not interested in what you're offering."

"Circe, it's like you're on repeat," she said, fingers drumming against bored lips. "What, not the least bit curious?"

Oh no, he was plenty curious and likely plenty interested in whatever offer she had — that was the problem. All he wanted was a simple deal with Scorpius to get some funds for Bea's transistor project. No need to throw in twisty femme fatales plots into the mix.

"I'm not interested in trouble."

Anjali reached for her glass, taking small sips as her gaze continued to bore into Fred. She looked as if she could devour him any time she wanted to; she certainly had the resources. Prefect, Quidditch captain, and a powerful family to back it up. "As much as I hate to share an opinion with your little girlfriend, you really are no fun."

"Bea's not my girlfriend," Fred declared for the umpteenth time and sipped his glass as well.

"Good on you. That makes the fact that you're clearly attracted to me a lot less inappropriate."

He sputtered out pumpkin juice. "_What — no!_" His mind betrayed him, however, as it filled with legs and lashes and perfume. Clean lines bent askew. The piano played cacophonous jazz that sounded like cats in heat, or whatever Louis called post-modern expressionism.

Fred found a tenuous rope to shore as his fingers smoothed up the comforting silk of his tie. "Miss Davies, whatever you're trying to pull, I can assure you it will not work. Intimidation is yesterday's game. Try something new."

"Yesterday, hmm?" Her finger slid down her cheek and under her lips. "But why waste new tricks when the old ones still work so well?"

_Gulp._

Anjali leaned back. A finger twirled around her hair, like an aimless puppeteer winding her string. "I suppose I'll get to the point. All I want to know is how I can help convince your little friend to work with Scorpius. You didn't look like you had qualms about this deal."

"It's not about qualms." Fred tried to get his breathing back to a normal pace. "I don't have much of a choice. I can't keep paying to replace everything she explodes all the time."

A chuckle rang in her breath. "Practical man. I like that. But I don't think you understand the power that families like mine and Scorpius have. You're still thinking small. With his backing, her inventions could go global."

It was yesterday's speech all over again, but she was convincing the wrong person. "Bea's never thought about that." Bea never looked beyond her own little sphere. "I'm already trying to tell her this, anyway. She's a lot more stubborn than you think."

Anjali stopped him with a hand. "I've dealt with Scorpius my whole life. Don't talk to me about stubborn."

"Interesting verb choice for your boyfriend."

"_Not _my boyfriend."

"If you say so." Fred supposed she meant they were on the off section of their on-and-off relationship. Technicality.

Awaiting some artful comeback, he was unprepared when it came in the form of her leg brushing against his, tracing up to his knee.

"Not. My. Boyfriend," she repeated. Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Makes this a lot less inappropriate, too."

His mouth was suddenly searing hot and too dry to reply as it hung agape. A single conversation and she already had him wrapped up in her web. If he could have a coherent thought, it would be on what a shoddy job he was doing as point man, but all he could do was stare from the deep brown of her eyes to the arc of her neck, down the gold chain of her ruby locket nestled between her...

"Oi _really_, Fred? She's way out of your league."

Roxanne's voice cut across his trance. Fred turned his head and groaned. Sure enough, there was his sister, chewing her Gobble Gum. She blew out another pygmy puff bubble that wriggled in the air before it popped on a candle.

"Shut it, Rocks," Fred muttered, scratching his leg. The tingle hadn't left yet. Anjali had innocently resumed picking at her salad, her expression covered by her fork.

Roxanne slouched to her side, ever the petulant adolescent. "Hmph, I will if you stop calling me that."

"Then stop being dumber than them."

"_Oi._" Her face scrunched up. "I'm going to stay now just 'cause you said that."

She sat herself down, leaning forward so much that she was nearly laying on the table. Roxanne liked being annoying for the sake of being annoying. It was, according to her, a 'sibling obligation'. But Fred was at least thankful that his sister's idiocy had cut the tension cleanly in half.

"So Anjali, how are you? My brother boring you?"

"Not at all." Anjali uncloaked her smile. "He's quite charming."

"Nah, you're obligated to say that. Prefect rules or something, am I right? It's okay, I won't tell anyone if you insult him."

"No, I do think he's very sweet." Anjali's lashes danced up and down at him, not quite winking, and Fred's palms begin to sweat again.

Roxanne didn't notice and simply sighed, smacking the gum between her jaws. "You're so nice." She turned to him. "She's so nice."

"That's one way to put it," he muttered, trying to find something else to focus on. The clock struck noon, and as lame as the excuse was, Fred took the opportunity between his desperate hands.

He rose from his seat, keeping his eyes on the table and away from the mysterious femme fatale. It was all right until he opened his mouth.

"Well, lunch has been great, but I've got to hurry and sultry — study!" He flushed red. "I've got to _study_," he repeated in a mortified breath.

Hastily picking up his books, Fred let the House Elf whisk his plate away and shoved Roxanne's head down as she giggled.

"Have fun, Weasley," came the _sultry _voice floating behind him as he couldn't make his departure quick enough.

He'd have Scorpius' wheedling overtures stuck in his mind over this girl any day.

* * *

Scorpius pulled his towel tight around his middle as he walked toward his bed where new clothes were laid out. After buckling the belt around his trousers, he heard a soft knock. The door opened slowly, delicate fingers smoothing down the side of the frame. In swept Anjali, who shut the door behind her. Her brow lowered disdainfully, she said nothing as she sat herself on the end of his bed, fingers curling idly around a bedpost.

"Hey," said Scorpius, shrugging on his shirt. He cleared his throat. "Sorry about the skirt. Found out for myself it's not fun getting doused in potion."

"It's not a big deal."

Anjali smoothed over the rough bumps of emotion so cleanly like a fresh wash of paint. Even after knowing her for all these years, it still perplexed him, frustrated him, and, unfortunately, captivated him.

She drew near and her teasing fingers crept up his chest, buttoning his shirt. "What happened? You smell like a toad."

He frowned, sniffing. "Still?"

That made her smile. "A little bit."

"Maybe if you kiss me, I'll smell like a prince."

But she placed a hand over his lips. "What did I say?"

"Every time you say it's over..." he murmured.

"_Scorpius_."

He shut his eyes. She was so calm — not even a jump or a flush of heat. Perhaps that was the sole source of his discontent. For all their history, she certainly never showed much of it.

Anjali finished buttoning his shirt and then slipped out of his reach, wandering the room. "I was thinking I should go after Fred. He listens to reason. It'll be easier to convince him."

Scorpius shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm done with it."

"Done?"

"Done."

She crossed her arms. "I think an explanation is in order. Considering."

Considering that he had been so insistent about the whole idea in the first place. Considering the time he took to orchestrate it and considering he put his reputation on the line. Considering that he was going against his father's wishes.

"Bea's never going to agree to it," Scorpius muttered. "Nothing's going to convince her. And I don't even know why. It's her fault I smell like a toad — her and Potterpuff. Dumped a bucket of cleaning water on me."

"As charming as you think you are, I'm going to guess that it was actually your fault."

"...I might have been looking through her things."

"You need to apologize."

"She won't care. Besides," he muttered, gesturing toward his soiled shirt draped over the rubbish bin, "I don't think I should be the one apologizing."

"You have twenty of those. And how do you know if she'll care or not? You just don't want to do it." She rolled her eyes. "Don't be stubborn. Fake it if you have to."

Scorpius flung the towel at his chest of drawers. "Do you know that she's broke? Family's completely broke and she still doesn't give in at all. Am I that bad?"

"She has pride."

He swiveled around. "Her pride can go to hell."

"And you threatened Fred."

"_Intimidated._It's a guy thing."

Anjali's eyes lifted skyward, already tired of the push-and-pull. "Apologize. Or if not, focus on Fred and leave the girl."

He shook his head. Anjali was smart, and perhaps that was why she saw the appeal in sensible Fred Weasley. "He's just the sidekick. What's a Watson without a Sherlock? Crazy or not, Bea's where the money's at."

"Watson still knows some of Sherlock's secrets." Her hands were on her hips, waiting for a better retaliation. "You're putting all your bets on _one _girl. One girl who doesn't even like you."

"When you find an idea like hers, when you find someone crazy enough to even attempt it — a _Muggle-magic converter._" He raked his hands through his hair. "I know so many people are going to brush it off as nothing more than a bundle of wires. But this..."

He remembered the excitement when he saw the photos Louis took. He hadn't expected to see the actual prototype — he hadn't thought it was possible. "It's this generation's Remembrall. I can't let it go."

"So apologize." Anjali pulled him to his feet and began fixing his cuffs, buttoning them and turning them straight. "Do what you have to now so you don't regret it later. Give her a cake or something. Use that bloody charm." She stood on her tiptoes, oh-so-close to meeting his lips. "And I'll take care of my end."

Scorpius leaned in but she turned away, heels toward the exit.

"Tease," he called.

When the door shut, he was left to himself once more. His gaze wandered to the Elbow Grease sitting on the nightstand and he picked it up, twisting it open. He remembered when the product first debuted the previous winter, marketed as a easy-fix cauldron scrubber and trophy polisher. His mate Xavier bought a whole box on the first day.

Bea had said that making these sorts of things couldn't be learned from a book but she had to have learned it from somewhere. It was such a small thing, and yet so marvelous — the same vein of innovation that Malfoy Co. needed.

Scorpius had said it himself; he couldn't let this opportunity go.

He calculated his odds. He was up against an erratic, hotheaded, sweets-loving, money-hating _nutcase _and all he had were... galleons.

Time for a new plan.

* * *

**Coming Soon: Ridiculous plans. Less ridiculous plans. Ridiculous Rose (but when is she not?)**

_He should have known the promising direction of his mood was indeed too good to be true. "We're not robbing Gringotts."_

"They just make it seem hard. I've got a great plan - we don't even have to break into the vaults!" Albus gave a squeak as Bea wrenched him by the sleeve and pushed back his fringe. "Just draw on a scar, call him Harry, and we can walk right in!"


	6. Two Plans Too Many

**6. TWO PLANS TOO MANY**  
_Robbing Gringotts was still easier than getting Weird Sister reunion tour tickets. _

When Fred finally found Bea later that evening, he wasn't sure if he wanted to ask what she had been doing.

Or why she was sitting on top of Albus and attacking him with a quill in the middle of the common room. It must have been going on for quite some time already, as a smattering of people had gathered to watch. Verona had a bowl of popcorn.

"Come on, it won't hurt — stay still!" Bea grit as she wrestled past Albus' arms, both of which were shielding his forehead.

"_I still don't want a tattoo,_" came the muffled whine underneath her.

"It'll wash off _urf!_"

"No means no!"

"Not in Portuguese!"

"What's going on?" Fred whispered to Verona, taking a handful of popcorn.

She shrugged. "Don't know. She's trying to draw a scar on him or something. How're your dives coming along?"

"Ugh, can we keep the Quidditch talk to the pitch?" Not even three sentences into the conversation and Verona Wood already made it about practice.

"Freddie, is that you?" The wild mat of hair on the floor swung upwards, revealing Bea's puffy face, so eager that Fred nearly stumbled backwards. "Freddie! Perfect! Al, get up."

The muttering crowd dispersed. Verona left with her popcorn, shaking a finger at Fred. "See you at practice, Weasley."

"Freddie, I've got an idea!" Bea had her hands firm in bargaining position as soon as she leapt up.

Fred stared at his harassed cousin to the weaponized quill in Bea's hand, and then finally to her brightly shining eyes. "Do tell," he said warily.

"So I was thinking, since Malfoy brought it up, we don't have a lot of funds after all, and we're definitely going to need the money."

Fred stood a little straighter, scratching his head. "Actually I was thinking the same thing." He scrabbled for the sheet of arithmetic from his pocket. "This morning I was calculating our budget. We ended up using less than projected for the balm-thing — "

"Stalker Salve," Bea amended. "Won't be enough, not if we want to replace my old set of tools. And since you're leaving this year, we'll need to finish this soon." As soon as Albus staggered to his feet, she grabbed him around the shoulders. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Fred went through his triangle of staring again, this time focusing a bit longer at the splotches of ink on Albus' cheek and his best guess was no, but he tried anyway. "We should take up Scorpius' offer?"

"We should rob Gringotts!" Bea declared at the same time.

Fred groaned. Bea sighed.

"Freddie, we've got to get better at speaking collaboratively."

He should have known better than to be grateful too soon. "We're not _robbing Gringotts._"

"They just make it _seem _hard! I've got a great plan — we don't even have to break into the vaults!" Albus gave a squeak as Bea wrenched him by the sleeve and pushed back his fringe. "Just draw on a scar, call him Harry, and we can walk right in!"

"Look, all joking aside — "

"I'm not joking." Bea was still stubbornly holding Albus down. "What part looks like I'm joking?"

"...all joking aside," Fred said slowly, "I was hoping you'd be open to taking Scorpius' offer."

The pout from the night before reappeared, and she released Albus with a thud. He waved his arms weakly at passing students for help.

"You're serious?" Bea's face crumpled into pug-wrinkles.

Fred swallowed hard. "Come on, you know the numbers now. This is for your own good," he said hopelessly. She had proved, in an infamous week-long fit, that her stubbornness grew exponentially the longer she stayed in a tantrum. "You've been working on the transistor for months and getting supplies have been rough. Scorpius' backing would help."

"I don't want to work with him," she snapped, spinning away.

Fred followed after, hoping reason would sink in if he were just persistent enough. Only stubborn could fight stubborn. "Sometimes we have to work with people we don't exactly agree with or like. But think about the bigger picture. We'll have the money to get all those missing components you need."

Bea threw her quill into a nearby ink pot. "I don't trust him."

"You can't just say that. You have to give me a reason why."

"Blokes with that kind of abdominal definition should never be trusted."

"Er..."

"Never mind. Look, there are some things you just don't trust people with," she said huffily. "I wouldn't tell Lucy a secret or give Rose a carving knife. I certainly won't hand over my intellectual property to Scorpius. But!" She raised a finger, chin up. "I had a back-up plan just in case you turned down the Gringotts one."

Fred couldn't wait to hear this one. Kidnap and ransom Headmaster Flitwick? Perhaps she was making use of James Potter's Patented Procedures and offered an obscenely ridiculous solution first on purpose. She had always been a faithful pupil to his old partner.

Albus had only just gotten to his feet when Bea slung her arm around him again. "Al's still part of a rich family. He can ask for money. We could just borrow some."

Albus frowned. "That would just be taking advantage of me."

"I'm not taking advantage of you," she reassured. "You're just helping me. Helping a friend."

"Oh, okay." Not a breath later, he exclaimed, "Wait a second!"

Albus then rambled on about how this was indeed _taking advantage him_ and not _friendship-related _while Bea drummed her fingers against his shoulder, grumbling.

"I'm not saying that I won't help you," Albus said, now a little abashed. "But I'd just like something in return is all. You know how I've always wanted to join you guys on all your fun, so I was hoping..."

Bea looked to Fred for confirmation.

Fred massaged his temples. Oh gods, she was dragging the whole clan in. "So Malfoy's money is no good, but my family's money is a-okay? And Scorpius also has a lot that Albus can't offer," he continued, remembering Anjali's words. "He can make this go beyond my dad's shop in Hogsmeade."

"Malfoy's all about profit and I can't let it be about that." There was a resoluteness to her that made her seem bigger than her small frame. "I thought you knew how important it is to me. It's bigger than just us; it's going to be a _revolution_."

"Revolutions are all very nice on paper, but they're quite expensive to pull off."

"Has there ever been a cheap one?" Bea shot back. "Paid in lives, broken families — "

"It's a transistor, not a government overthrow."

He could see her mutter, _"But the metaphor fits_."

She was cracking though. The idea had planted in her mind and she was searching for excuses — he knew the look.

"Obviously you have some issues with people who are a little rich or have a little power," Fred said gently, "but not everyone is out to get you."

Her eyes suddenly narrowed. "Why are you so insistent?"

The lingering memory of Anjali's flirtations left Fred momentarily blank and Bea's stare hardened. Pulling his jaw up to stop any drool, he tried to focus on the matter at hand. "Look, I like helping you out, I really do, but it's nice if I know that it's going toward something that actually... works."

Bea sighed, not seeming to notice that he didn't answer the question, and crossed her arms in a fidget of rebellion. "I guess you wouldn't understand."

"No, I do," he countered weakly, though he had heard the tone a million times before. She never said it out loud, but he knew what she wanted to say:_ You don't make this stuff, Freddie._He was the sidekick, not the star, even in his dad's shop, where he worked the backroom while James worked the cashier.

Bea snorted. "Do you? Do you know how it feels like when someone like takes your idea and massacres it beyond recognition? Because that's what people like Malfoy would do. Ideas aren't just ideas. They're like — like my babies!" She leant forward with renewed zeal. "Do you want to be a baby-killer, Freddie? Huh, _do you?!_"

With her intense scrutiny, he nearly believed that he was a baby-killer and shook his head to regain some sense. "Let's be reasonable. Dignity's not going to pay. As much as you like your self-business, it's not realistic — "

"Oh ho ho, there you go high and mighty again." With a harrumph, she stuck her nose up. "Next you're going to tell me you haven't really got that treacle tart you promised."

It was at that moment Fred remembered that after lunch, he had eaten the promised tart during Charms. In his frozen silence, Bea's tantrum dissolved and her lip now quivered with a tremor reserved only for the gravest of tragedies.

Fred hid his wince behind a hand. "Come on, it's just one tart — "

"But you _promised._"

"I'll fetch you one tomorrow."

"You _said _you had a treacle — "

"I forgot I ate it during — "

"But you _said _— "

"I know I _said_— "

"So you _lied_— "

" — but — "

"— a_ tart of lies._"

Bea's eyes pleaded, even watered. She leaned forward pouting, and Fred leaned backwards to avoid her.

"Look, Bea — " He glanced away from her puppy-stare. "Bea, can you forget about your stomach and take this seriously? Truth is, we can't keep this up. It's only a matter of time before someone catches us nicking things from the teacher's cupboards."

Her shoulders slumped in acquiescence, but she remained silent. Fred got up and paced backwards toward the dorm staircase, "We can talk about it tomorrow. It's been a long day."

Albus waved but Bea didn't reply, choosing instead to pick at the scab by her knuckle. Only after Fred was halfway up the stairs did she pull her head up and call, "Good night!" A hint of gloom painted her voice, always late to jump on the forgiveness train.

Fred stepped a few paces down. "Treacle tart tomorrow for sure, yeah?"

Biting her lip stubbornly, she nodded. "We can share," she offered.

He smiled lightly before plodding up the steps again. Bea meant well, as she always did. He could only hope it was enough.

* * *

After Albus left, Bea flopped down across the entire length of the sofa. Fred had a point, but they were supposed to be the plucky underdogs! The duo that charged through thick and thin, thwarting the evil plans of the smarmy, monocled capitalists! Whatever they were. Couldn't Fred show a hint of optimism?

Besides, she had told him from the very beginning that it was more than just any old invention; it was going to pull wizards out of their silly traditionalism. Wizarding culture was falling fast behind against the tech age of the Muggles, and all they needed to do was figure out a way to get magic to work with some circuitry. If they could cure the common cold, surely they could do this much.

But wizards were wizards. There were still so many who snubbed their noses at these _primitive_ devices, and no one would hear the growing clamor for tellies and laptops and mobiles — Fred included. He didn't live in both worlds like she did. For one, his definition of instant messaging was that _the owls flew a lot faster_. He didn't see just how _big _this would be.

But there was still so much she needed, not only money but access to a proper workplace. A prefect on their side wasn't half-bad, either.

On cue, Ravenclaw's red-headed terror loomed over like a phantom.

"Bea? Could I borrow you for a sec?"

"Er — " But before Bea could properly respond, Rose dragged her up and out of her seat. She didn't fight, for while Rose was skittishly harmless, she was also a lunatic.

Rose towed Bea to a quieter corner of the common room, obscured by the back of a shelf.

"Are you all right?" asked Bea. Her temper dampened quickly as she watched Rose pace around, wringing her hands.

"No, I'm not all right! _I am in a crisis_— !" Rose let out a long breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I — I'm just at the end of my wits. I don't know what to do..." Her words devolved into despairing squeaks.

Bea certainly didn't know what to do, whatever it was. It was times like these that she wished Rose had a larger group of friends to consult; few people other than Lucy or Verona could stand her, which was only a result of living with her for so long (the violent tendencies were endearing, even). But Verona wouldn't care to listen and Lucy would only laugh in her face. That left Bea, and it was a sad state of affairs when Bea was the go-to girl for advice.

"...so I was wondering if I could maybe help," finished Rose.

"Help?" repeated Bea, blinking. She wasn't the greatest listener, either.

"With your trap-sitter thing. It can make mobiles and laptops and intertubes work in Hogwarts right?"

"It's_ transistor_, and yeah, it can do all that, but it's a little more complicated — "

"I know, I have to sign up for some Muggle service. Right now, I just need to know if this thing you're working on will let me ring people."

"Theoretically..." Bea wasn't sure if Rose understood she might not get reception in the Scottish moors, especially in a place that didn't exactly_ exist _to phone companies. Rose seemed to have been doing quite a lot of research, however. "What's this all about?"

Rose bit her lip. The hand-wringing resumed. "You've... you've got to keep this secret, okay?" Bea nodded. "You know Colin, the boy I've been getting letters from? The one I'm making that Squib rights group for? Well..." Her eyes squeezed shut. "He _is _the squib."

"Oh, _Rose._"

The Wizarding community had made great strides in anti-discrimination since the last war, but squibs were still pitied creatures. If news broke out that Rose Weasley was in love with a squib, it would make her an absolute laughingstock.

"I lied about him going to the Arthurian Academy," she whimpered. "He just goes to Muggle school and he has Muggle things and he wants to talk to me the Muggle way and I don't know what to do, Bea._ I don't know what to do!_"

She flung herself at Bea, sobbing hysterically, while the diminutive girl stood stock-still with her hands up. Cautiously, she pat Rose on the back.

Bea knew how it felt to be so cut off from the Muggle world. Last summer, after she, Mum, and Sasha moved in with her grandparents after the divorce, she had to bid goodbye to all her electronics; there was too much magical interference at home for them to work properly. She missed all the new crazy gadgets that did things that wizards couldn't even dream of.

That was what she always admired about Muggles like Dad; they had such imagination. It was no wonder they never needed magic.

Eventually, Rose calmed down to a coherent babble. "Colin has a point. He wants to grow up like a Muggle and if that's the case, it's not right to keep him tied to this world. He already owls me, but I want to hear his voice and see him... Muggles have that two-way mirror thing — "

"Video chat."

"Yeah, that, and maybe he'll like me, maybe he'll _really_ like me and not hate me like everyone else and _oh my god my life is a wreck_— " Rose's voice climbed toward a dangerous shrill.

"No one hates you! You're um... you're just a little intimidating sometimes — "

"_EVERYONE HATES ME!_"

"Shh, shh!" Bea looked around wildly. Nearby Snap players stared. "_I_ don't hate you. And... you know what? I_ am_ going to let you help me with the transistor." A prefect _did _come in handy...

Rose brightened, almost to the point where she wouldn't scare away first years on sight. "You are? I'm a fair brewer. Charms, too — "

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd be willing to, er, bend a few rules..."

All of Rose's nervous habits threatened to break loose as the question flashed before her eyes. Her beloved rule book or her beloved boy?

"Do it for Colin," pressed Bea. It was terrible to take advantage of an emotionally distraught girl, but surely it was in Rose's best interest. After all, who knew when she would ever be able to find another bloke she liked so much and didn't run away from her screaming?

At last, trembling, Rose nodded. Bea smiled widely, forgetting herself for a moment, before hastily conjuring a handkerchief.

Who needed Malfoy, anyway?

* * *

**A/N **THE TEAM IS ASSEMBLED. Sort of. Kind of against their will and/or bribed.

**Coming Soon: A FIGHT D: Girl banter. Cupcakes.**

_And so the first domino tipped over. She had been waiting for this moment, ever since the train ride at the beginning of the school year, where the carriage felt more empty than ever before. Some people were able to keep in touch with friends despite having different schedules, living in different houses, or leaving Hogwarts, but neither she nor Fred were like that. Without James, they were drifting apart._


	7. Apologetics Anonymous

**7. APOLOGETICS ANONYMOUS**  
_If war conference talks were settled with cupcakes, world peace would arrive a lot sooner._

"Straight to Dad, Tugwing."

Albus unlatched the window and the owl flew out of the Ravenclaw girls' dorm, her snowy white feathers melting into the night.

"There," he said, turning to Bea, who was pulling supplies from underneath her bed. "Asked for an advance allowance for 'new Quidditch gear'. Dad'll like that. I have galleons saved up too if it's not enough."

Bea flashed him a smile as she carried a box over to her desk. "Thanks. Really, you don't know how much I need this."

In the quiet evening, with her work before her, she was in a rare moment of sobriety. Her hair even seemed less like a nesting area and more like actual hair. On her desk was a freshly crumpled note from home, delivered by owl an hour ago. It was 'polite rubbish', as Bea liked to put it, another reminder of her first and foremost responsibility to focus on her studies.

Albus scampered over as she unpacked, bringing out vials and other trinkets he could only faintly recognize. The Weasley family Kneazle Mr. Welly jumped up on her chair, sniffing at Bea's hand before she shooed him away. Affronted, he nosed into her robe pocket, the one hanging off her chair, in search for stray biscuits.

Bea wiped her hands on her shirt and then moved to lift the transistor from her shelf, careful to not tangle the loose wiring. "Well, it's what I've got now." She blew the day's dust off and held it before Albus. "You can touch it if you want. It's pretty sturdy."

It was like a welder's puzzle: a metal amalgamation of scrap parts fused and forced into a rectangular shape, an alloy of alloys. The color and texture didn't match all the way around; brass melted into bronze melting into pewter. On either side, two large tubes protruded, encasing a knot of thread-like wires. Albus felt along the ribbed top. It was cool and dull as he expected, but there was a kick under his finger that warned of hidden magic.

"I know it looks small but — " Bea flipped a latch on its side, separating it into a cover and a hollow body that held the inner components. " — there's a lot inside."

At the center of the tangle was what captivated Albus the most: a blue glowing ball that seemed to breathe and blur color. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing it correctly.

"The core has to be switched out with a runespoor egg. Thought plain rockspoor ones would work, but they're a tad too unfriendly with electrical currents." Bea paused, considering Albus' glassy-eyed stupor. "Jibber jabber, I know. Don't worry, Freddie doesn't know half of this stuff either. You probably know some of the magical stuff. The physics takes a bit more time to understand. Merlin, imagine explaining electrons to you! Little floating particles everywhere; you'd call it magic — figuratively, of course."

Albus blinked.

Bea sighed. "_Wizards_."

From the bundle of instruments laid out on a dirty rag, she picked up a pair of tweezers and detached the threads from core. A less-skilled hand might have torn the delicate filaments that wove around it but Bea was too familiar, too devoted to the device for such a careless mistake.

The blue glow waned and when it was at last a dull grey, she extracted the egg from its metal shell, and Albus took in every action with marvel.

The quiet ended when Lucy and Rose arrived in a storm of bickering. In Lucy's arms was what appeared to be a pot with a stick of gnarled wood in the middle.

"You are not keeping that thing in our room!" Rose snapped.

"She's not a _thing_." Lucy coaxed and cooed at the bonsai's leaves, if they could even be called such in their wrinkled raisin state. "Her name is Maple."

"It's a tree!"

"Earned your gold stars in herbology, eh? She's more than just a tree; she has a _soul_."

"Ugh, artists. You're worse than Louis."

"Excuse me, _I_ am an artist. Louis is an _artiste_, which is French for_ deranged_. He stalks people and takes their photos. Maple is a victimless installation. She sits on the windowsill and photosynthesizes."

Rose gave a huff that all but communicated her distaste of being related to her. "And what of this _mating season _again?"

"Just don't get too close on that one day of the month, and her seeds won't try to implant themselves in your leg."

A strangled squeak escaped from Rose's throat. She began sorting the books on her desk into alphabetical order — her makeshift anger management activity — all the way from _Ancient Runes and Scripts_ to _Zodiac: Life Decided For You_. One more snarky quip and she'd launch herself at her cousin, this time with something sharper than a pillow.

After setting Maple down beside her nightstand, Lucy skipped across the room to the inventor. "Bea! Is it true? Is Rose really helping you?"

"A prefect's a handy person to have, I figure." Bea lifted one lens of her Magnify-o Goggles.

"I don't know what was going on in your little head when you asked, but it's my duty to advise against it. There's no reason to spend any more time than necessary with my cousin."

Rose cleared her throat. "_Excuse _me."

"Maybe you think it won't be so bad," Lucy continued, "that crazy gets along with crazy. But there are different levels of crazy, Bea. You? You're like a lovable crazy. Kind of kooky. Rose, on the other hand, is more of an axe-murderer."

"_I'm right here._" Rose reached for her hairbrush; the bristles were sharp enough to draw blood, if she tried hard enough.

Luckily for Lucy — and anyone who didn't want a fresh cadaver in the middle of the room — the door swung open and Verona tromped in with Fred, fresh from Quidditch practice. Verona dropped her duffel to the floor with a grateful sigh. "Hello, Weasleys one through three and Bea." She took a step and grimaced. "That rhymed a lot more than I'm comfortable with."

Fred padded toward the inventor, shoes springy with his pair of Feminine Feet Soles. Its combination of sparkly enchantments and neon pink color made a bold fashion statement and, as an added bonus, tricked the staircase's male-detection system. Albus had his old pair, which was a brilliant shade of violet.

"How are the Salve tests coming along?" Fred asked.

Bea put the transistor down and her probe behind her ear. "Haven't checked them but they should be done. Let me just..." She wrest her potions rack from the back of her desk and shoved it in front of Fred. "Hold this."

He stared into the glassy necks of the vials, each holding goop of various hues and consistences that almost looked like taffy. Lucy tried to get a finger in and swipe a taste.

"Have you been working on the transistor all this time?" asked Fred.

"Well, I figure if we're going make use of Rose and Albus, we should get this done quick. No need to keep them longer than necessary," she said. Fred might have been right about her exploiting his family, but she did try to be polite about it.

"Appreciate the thought, but I need to talk to you about that." He beckoned outside.

Bea puffed her cheeks out and let it deflate in a long sigh, before dragging her feet outside. Albus was shooed along as Verona flapped a towel.

"I need to shower, Potter!"

Albus sputtered a hasty apology as he shielded his eyes (though she was fully clothed) and scampered out with Bea. He shut the door in the midst of Verona's mutterings.

Fred paced around the landing. "So," he said, leaning back against the wall. "I was hoping you thought about this more."

Bea crossed her arms, already irritated. "If you mean getting your cousins to help with this transistor project instead of Malfoy, I don't see anything wrong with _this._"

"This is more for you than me. Please, just take a look at the opportunity you're giving up."

"What I don't understand is how everyone seems to see all these _opportunities,_" Bea grumbled. "If you like these opportunities so much, you go get them yourself. Malfoy's giving them away like hotcakes, isn't he? Money, fame, leggy girls. Opportunity hotcakes with extra syrup! Taste delicious until you start _choking on the lies_ and _get backstabbed by a butter knife!_"

Fred somehow found himself at the end of her probe, whipped out from behind her ear and pointed threateningly in his face. He had retreated a full six feet away while Albus hid behind him. "Okay, I think you've been living with Rose too long."

She glanced at her hand and then at the boys again. Clearing her throat, she nestled the instrument back in its place primly. Kneading her cheeks up and down like a stress ball, she tried to find the right words. James had so many tricks to explaining and persuasion but she could barely get past square one. "I want to make my own decisions, Freddie. Make my own mistakes. I don't want to rely on anyone."

Fred's brow crinkled. Bea could see that he was trying to understand and she wanted to appreciate it, but he _didn't _understand — not in the way she wanted him to.

She couldn't escape his first impression of her: little Bea Chang, the sugar-minded third year that followed him and James around for chocolate bars. But where James saw promise, Fred saw a naive liability. Even after all these years, that never seemed to change.

"If you want to do this your way, I guess I can't stop you. It's your invention," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I have other things to do. I have N.E.W.T.S., Quidditch..."

And so the first domino tipped over. She had been waiting for this moment, ever since the train ride at the beginning of the school year, or even before that. It was one of those thoughts that one felt guilty of having, buried until it demanded notice.

Some people were able to keep in touch with friends despite having different schedules, living in different houses, or leaving Hogwarts, but neither she nor Fred were like that. Without James, they were drifting apart. Next September, there would be no Fred at all, and their time together would only exist in memories.

Her shoulders sank lower. "Well... I guess I have Rose and Albus."

In that moment, when the hurt flashed across his face, she knew she had said the wrong thing.

"So, just like that, huh?"

The note of surprise didn't escape her ears. The same thought had occurred to him, but unlike Bea, who was resigned to the inevitable, he hadn't. "Freddie, it's not that I don't appreciate your help," she said quickly. "I don't mean it that way at all."

"Fred — ?" Albus reached for him but Fred shook his head, turning toward the staircase.

"Never mind, let's just drop it."

She couldn't see his creased frown but she felt it was there, a splotch of hanging clouds over his head. "I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"It's fine. I — " He sighed. "I'm getting too old for this, is all. I'll come by for the Salves tomorrow." With that, he disappeared around the turn until his shadow folded into the dark.

Frustration burned in her cheeks. Merlin, this was exactly the problem! How was she supposed to fix anything when he wasn't even telling her what was wrong? She whirled around in a huff, flung the door open and slammed it behind her.

After taking a step, she remembered Albus and sheepishly let him in. "Sorry. Forgot you were there."

When Rose and Lucy asked what happened outside, Bea responded with a vague excuse about business disagreements. She took her seat at her desk. Albus hovered by her side, quieter than usual.

She needed a distraction but didn't have much to tinker with — not without a new core. The highly illegal runespoor egg was enough of a problem, not including all the details like finding wiring strong enough to carry its energy. It was expensive, which Fred was unfortunately right about.

Bea settled on organizing her potion rack, making sure no sock gremlins scampered off with her vials, which were currently insulated by her old knee-highs. Meanwhile, Lucy snored in the background, having meant to take a short nap, but would invariably end up sleeping until the next morning. Rose and Verona were at their desks, quills swishing.

Albus broke the silence. "Are you and Fred going to be okay?"

Bea pressed her lips tight together as she switched two vials. "I don't know."

"He doesn't hold grudges."

"_I _do."

"He... he means well. Even if you don't agree with him — " He paused in alarm when her gaze flashed to his but found the nerve to finish his sentence. " — he just wants to help."

As many times as Fred had explained himself that way, it sounded different from Albus. Maybe because she never tried to rebel against Albus. Bea sighed. "I know."

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you so against a deal with Scorpius? I thought Fred made some good points yesterday."

Bea shook her head. Albus really wasn't going to let it go. "Scorpius is bored. Wants to throw some money around. It's like we're the underdogs and he's the bad guy, and you don't let the bad guy win."

"I know he wasn't being a very good friend before but I... I think he means well, too."

Albus prodded her in the side, unwilling to be ignored. "Hey, I'm a 'Puff," he said, smiling. "We're experts at these things, you should listen. And..." His fingers twisted against each other, fidgeting on a thought. "It's not worth disagreeing over something so silly if you and Fred stop being friends over it."

Bea couldn't help but smile back and squeezed his hand. "I appreciate it, Al."

Life was a lot simpler back when inventing was just for fun and she only received desserts in return. If only it were as easy as pie.

* * *

The following night, Bea met Rose and Albus outside the common room for a supply restocking expedition. Finding black market eggs was a _tad _more difficult than filching a few everyday ingredients, and it didn't hurt to put them on the bunny slope first.

Rose was to patrol, stalling or stopping any approaching professors, prefects, or poltergeists. They had to be extra careful this time without the Marauder's Map handy.

Crazy eyes at bay, Rose held up surprisingly well; her stuttering excuses became more assertive after chatting up her third prefect. When the coast was clear, Bea and Albus sped through the maze of hallways, heart jumping at every echo and shadow. Hogwarts at night was a completely different place.

The ghosts had their poker nights. Prefects, thinking that they were alone, were always up to odd things — picking their nose, talking to themselves, breaking out into interpretive dance. The Hogwarts night life.

Finally they reached their target: a former Potions classroom on the third floor. Bea forced open the door with a handy _'Alohomora' _and a good shove. She wandered inside, assuring Albus, "These classrooms are so old, no one ever misses anything in here."

The night painted the room in an eerie moonlight, washing over the desks in tides of blue. At the corner, nestled between an overturned desk and a rusted owl cage, was a massive oaken cabinet.

Bea felt along its sides, giving it a gentle knock every few inches, and then pulled one of its gold rungs. The door didn't budge. She held her wand out. "Nothing another _Alohomora _won't fix."

"I wouldn't do that," said a voice behind her.

Bea and Albus jumped. It was Fred. He was making his way through the rows of desks, collar and tie close and crisp, his stride purposeful — the point man swooping in to do the job right.

"That thing's probably jinxed." Fred tapped his wand against the door and muttered an incantation under his breath. The cabinet shuddered, coughing off its top film of dust, and swung open.

There were rows and rows of supplies and Bea was so consumed by the plunder, shoving jars at Albus, that she nearly forgot thank Fred. She spun around. "Freddie — "

He was staring off, sullen, with hardly a trace of the same excitement.

Bea frowned. "Are you still mad?"

"No," he said, not the least bit convincing.

"You're still mad."

"I'm just tired." He managed a forced smile. "I can't quite let you run off with my cousins and get you all killed, can I?"

A drop of guilt rippled through Bea. It was disheartening to see him so reluctant to be there when he should have been having fun. She knew she made things difficult for him, but she had never seen it so visibly.

By the time Rose peeked her head in to fuss about hurrying up (Filch's army of cats was bearing down on them and no amount of small talk was going to stop them), they had amassed quite a haul. Fred took out the Marauder's Map and spread it across a table, pointing out the best routes. They were to double back after escorting Albus to his common room, and he warned about getting stuck on the moving staircases.

When Bea blinked, it was almost like business as usual.

Almost.

* * *

The more eventful nights were, the slower days went.

The entire Charms class was knocked out halfway into the guest enchanter Aldrich Pintswitch's speech. He had one of the most brilliant minds in all of Wizarding history and a monotone to rival Binns'. Death by boredom had never been such a likely possibility.

Bea was leaning on her arm, fluttering in and out of her daydream where it was All-You-Can-Eat Day at Honeydukes. When she felt something wet tickle her arm and saw a cupcake by her elbow, she didn't think much of her extremely vivid dream, but an insistent hiss followed.

"_Psst._Bea."

She then noticed the two fingers pushing the cupcake closer. Her eyes traveled up the arm and sure enough, there was Scorpius, who had apparently displaced whoever was previously sitting to her left. She frowned, nose flaring. For Treacle's sake, did 'No' not exist in his vocabulary? The fact that she had already refused twice in the face of desserts should have sent a message!

Exasperated, Bea grabbed the cupcake in haste, crushing the bottom and causing the frosting to overflow onto her hands.

"What are you — no no no!" Scorpius waved wildly, distraught. Clutching the side of her desk, he leaned in. "It's not a bribe cupcake. It's a... it's an apology one."

For a second, she very nearly fell for it. She frowned deeper. "As if you mean it!" she hissed.

"Gee, thanks," he scoffed.

"Don't you dare pretend to be hurt."

"Of course. Me. _Feelings_." He sat back and crossed his arms. "You're right, I don't mean it. Anjali made me do it."

"Think I'm so easy..."

"Can't believe I spent two hours baking that."

"You baked it?" Bea stared at the cupcake again, which was now flowing down the back of her hand in a mix of cream and sprinkles.

He reddened slightly. "I can bake, so what?"

It wasn't that he _could _bake, although she found the image of Scorpius in a flowery apron highly amusing. It was the fact that he baked it in the first place, the glaring anomaly in all of his actions. Baking took effort. He could buy her the best dessert in all of Britain, but instead, he sweated over an oven in the kitchens, jostling elbows with House Elves.

Baking was the sign of a guilty subconscious.

The matter of his guilt was already dropped — he said he wasn't sorry. Bea didn't have bring it up again or even _talk_ to Scorpius if she didn't want to. It would only create an opportunity for the snotty nuisance to return. But the thought itched in her throat until finally she asked, "..._do _you mean it?"

"I already said I don't," he grumbled. "Not that it matters. It's not going to change your mind if I do."

The memory of her unsuccessful apology to Fred suddenly transplanted itself into her thoughts. Was this what her stubbornness caused? "It _might!_" she retorted.

"Are you sure about that?" Scorpius leaned out of his chair and onto her desk again. "Because if I said I hate pumpkin juice, I bet you'd think it's some _conspiracy _of mine to exploit you."

Bea regretted her decision immediately. He wasn't taking this seriously in the slightest. "That's not — "

"Then what if I said that I always admired your work and never wanted to cheat you, that all I wanted was to give your bloody invention a fighting chance to make it in the market, and that — " he licked his lips and swallowed " — that maybe I _am_sorry! What would you say then, huh?"

Bea shrunk back. Even Scorpius looked surprised at himself. The pressure bore down on her back to say something, anything. All she could do was stare back at his eyes, so vividly clear and grey, and then at the heartlessly murdered cake in her hand.

There was only one course of action: panic.

Which equated to cramming the entire cupcake in her mouth.

Bea wasn't sure what she was thinking at the time — she likely _wasn't_ thinking — but eliminating the source of her sudden guilt seemed sensible. The result was... less so. Even more unfortunately, it didn't fix anything. Now they were staring at each other _and _she had frosting smeared all across her face.

Slowly, the corners of Scorpius' mouth lifted and out escaped a snicker. Bea glared but she couldn't suppress the betraying start of a smile and the giggle that leaked. Somehow, it made everything all right.

A few heads turned in the classroom, but most were too asleep to notice the pair in the back of the room.

"I guess I'm sorry too," said Bea slowly. "For, erm, attacking you." She reached for the Truce Tart she had been carrying in her bag all day for Fred and placed it in his hand.

Scorpius closed his fingers around it. There followed a long, poignant silence, the kind that meant mutual understanding and mending bridges — or as best as could be managed by a pair of sixth years, one who lived by fast talk and the other, sugar.

When the moment passed, Scorpius returned to his seat and Bea let the drone of the enchanter put her to sleep once again, smiling.

* * *

**Coming up: a whole chapter dedicated to explosive adventure times and banter 8D**

_"Don't get us both caught," he whispered harshly. "I just saved your arse."_

After another unruly thrash, Bea slackened.

"Are you going to yell when I let go?"

She swallowed and then shook her head. With a grimace, Scorpius dropped his arms. Bea bolted to the other wall. They both drew their wands - his cast Lumos, hers was at his neck.

"Why are you following me?" she hissed.


	8. Just a Little Breaking and Entering

**8. JUST A LITTLE BREAKING AND ENTERING**  
_The biggest threats to Hogwarts were students with too much free time on their hands._

Bea had wanted to find unicorn hair by Thursday, but instead, she was stuck ironing out the kinks in the Stalker Salve. Attempting to 'compromise' was not as fun as Albus had made it sound.

"You said there'd be kittens." Bea pouted as she slumped into the common room armchair.

"I said compromise is _like _a kitten. Treat him well, see it through until it grows, and you'll be happier in the long run," said Albus as he strained to lift Mr. Welly into his lap. The Kneazle refused to budge from the carpet. "Fred, conditions?"

Fred was standing idly, flipping his pocket watch open and closed. "Get the Salve ready for the last tests and you can drag me around on whatever you want," he said. "If you want to stop making Wheezes products to focus on your transistor, that's fine, but we should finish what we start."

Bea nodded. She had nothing against making Wheezes products, but side projects divided her attention and the transistor was no simple concept. Fred was giving her the better end of the deal. It was a nice sort of post-reconciliation gesture, not that there was a reconciliation phase before it.

They weren't _feelings _people; they danced around issues more awkwardly than chaperoned teens at a dance, but like Albus had said, Fred didn't hold grudges. Truthfully, neither did she — it wasn't worth it. She trusted too few people in the world and fewer could put up with her. Fred was reliable and, without notice, would forgive her. And she would always forgive Fred.

For once, they had good timing; she finished the salve at the same time Fred got a literal itch on his leg for adventure.

"I'll be needing unicorn tail hairs," she said, snapping the prototype open. The sudden burst of static shock sent her hair into a crackling frizz. "Cores too, but I can still wait on that." Common-grade unicorn hair, which was plucked from the mane, wasn't good enough.

That evening, Fred brought Bea, Albus, and Rose to the common room to explain the logistics.

"It's rather simple, if we're lucky," Fred said, holding out the parchment containing the details. Albus and Rose stared as it unrolled all the way to the floor.

"That's _simple_?" squeaked Rose.

"He was much worse last year," said Bea, unfazed. "Once, he had six of those. One of them was what to do if there was a hurricane."

Fred tried to shoo away Mr. Welly, who was using his master plans as a clawing post. "It was storm season. It was very possible!"

"A hurricane of _venomous toads_."

He cleared his throat. "A little extreme, but you never know what the moors will throw at you. Anyhow..."

Pulling off a Hogwarts heist was an art. Fred went over destinations, main routes, alternate routes, escape routes, precautions, and postcautions.

"Al, you're our supply guy. Take this." Fred draped a utility belt over Albus' shoulder. "There's fragile stuff in there. Goggles, enchanted lock picks, silencing bombs, emergency biscuits, lots of things. Keep it all together."

Albus fastened it around his waist. "So... I'm a pack mule."

"Supply guy," Fred repeated, flipping Albus' bent collar. Albus had dressed for the occasion by imitating Fred's shirt-and-tie combo, but he ended up looking more like a kid in his dad's work clothes. "The most important thing is to follow close behind. Bea'll take up the rear but watch your back anyway. Now, repeat the signals I taught you."

Meanwhile, Rose edged closer to Bea. "This seems complicated," Rose whispered.

"Nah, the only person who pays attention to all these rules is Fred." Bea was busy lacing up her black salamander skin boots, a birthday present from James. It had footstep-silencing enchantments, and it never hurt to go in style.

"I just... I don't know. I'm not cut out for this." Rose squeezed her temples until her fingers burned. "What if I mess up?"

"Just patrol and do what you did last time, when it was just me and Al."

"That was a fluke! I didn't know what I was doing then either. I just talked to people to distract them, but that can't work forever. I stutter and I'm boring and _I scare people away_."

"Rose, _I _scare people away." Bea tied the last knot and brushed off her hands. "Really, it's not a big deal; this is Hogwarts, not the Ministry. We're patrolled by a bunch of sixteen-year-olds. People who are just like you."

Rose creased her brow, eyes shifting around the common room. One of the prefects, Edgar Frittleson, was fast asleep and two third years were taking turns launching earwax-flavored jellybeans at his mouth. "...good Godric, we do have rubbish security, don't we?"

"Exactly. Now just _relax_."

Rose did anything but, her shoulders tightly wound back and her teeth chewing on her lip. A thousand scenarios rained down her head like poison toads.

"Well, I guess that's it," said Fred, clapping Albus on the shoulder. "We can head out in an hour. Ringleward should be asleep then." He took a brief survey of the area, checking to make sure he hadn't dropped any supplies, and headed toward the stairs.

"But what about me?" Rose called after him. "Don't you have some... super secret prefecting tips for me?"

"Aw, you don't need it, Rose; you're a natural. You've got the Weasley blood." Fred smiled brightly. It was only after these prep sessions that he was so eerily easygoing.

"Weasley blood," she repeated under her breath. "Right-o, of course."

* * *

Appropriately, the mission began with an explosion.

An explosive belch, to be precise.

Fred, Bea, and Albus were tiptoeing down to the dungeons in perfect synchronized silence until Albus let out the equivalent of a dragon's roar, smoke rings and all.

Fred swiveled around. "_What was that?_"

Albus coughed up a few burping aftershocks. The stench of fizzy pop hung in the air. "Sorry, we'd been experimenting."

While Bea and Albus were killing time in the hour prior, she had convinced Albus to drink an unmarked potion that had rolled behind her desk. She had an inkling it was the lost vial of anti-hiccup potion she brewed last year, which had the unfortunate side-effect of gastric flamebrosis. From the looks of it, she had been correct.

Fred craned his head to judge the glow emanating from next hallway. "Well, try to hold it in. I think Rose stopped someone ahead. I don't see her lantern moving."

Albus twiddled his thumbs. "...I need to use the loo. I drank a lot of fizzy pop."

"Hold that in, too." Fred straightened his tie, trying to uphold some semblance of professionalism in the mission. Cautiously, he approached the corner until he could hear the murmurs.

"Those arm muscles are so... muscley!" Judging from the high pitch, that was Rose.

"Thanks, you can uh, feel them if you want."

Fred shuddered. Rose's flirting was like Hog's Head Open Mic Nights — painful to hear, likely to require some form of brain bleach afterwards, but too morbidly intriguing to pass up.

He peeked around. Rose was currently feeling up a Slytherin prefect, Orion Something-or-other. Tall, tan, and a bit of a blithering numbskull.

Bea popped up beside him. "What's she doing?"

"I think she's trying to flirt," said Albus, who wriggled underneath Bea to get a look. They were like three sideways gophers, peering at an impending train wreck.

Except it wasn't a train wreck.

"I think he actually... likes her," said Bea, raising an eyebrow. Rose was twirling her hair and Orion was perfectly enthralled, as if he had never seen a girl with hair before. "I don't get it. Is he really that desperate or something?"

Fred and Albus exchanged glances. "Well," Albus began, "it's cause she's, well, she's..."

"She's pretty," Fred finished.

Bea squinted at them and then at Orion, who was staring down at Rose with a giddy smile. "...it's 'cause she's got huge knockers, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"Pretty much."

She crossed her arms. "Weasley blood, my arse. You could've just told her to push out her chest."

"We're her cousins; it's awkward," said Fred, who then mouthed '_Walk him away_' to Rose. "But we can't deny what's there and those are definitely... _there_."

Bea drummed her fingers against her chin as the contrived banter-flirting dragged on. "It's funny. She hates Anj because of all that seduction stuff, and here she is doing the same."

"Don't mention that girl," Fred muttered. "She scares me."

"Legs too long for you?" she teased.

"I'm only a man."

Rose finally managed to get Orion to follow her by draping herself over his arm, doing every hair flip, coy giggle, wink trick ever discovered and then some. The three were about to emerge from hiding when Albus hiccuped.

Orion stopped Rose. "What was that?"

"Oh no," Albus squeaked, pressing his lips tight together until his cheeks grew puffy and red, but it couldn't stop the thunderous belch that exploded out of him.

Fred yanked Albus and Bea back. Spinning toward the staircase, he saw another light approaching. "Shit."

Orion's footsteps approached, as did Rose's frantic babbling. They had seconds. Fred dove into the pocket of Albus' utility belt for a Ceiling Claw and pressed the button on its side. The claw shot up and hit stone with a clang.

"Hold tight." He pressed the button again.

"What — " Albus began before being promptly kicked in the face as Fred rappelled upwards. Luckily, Bea grabbed Albus by the collar at the last second and the three of them escaped into the safety of the shadows.

Bea held her breath. Don't look up. Don't look up.

Underneath, Orion swung his beefy legs around as he inspected the hallway's nooks. Rose tried to coax him to her with little success. The other light had gone away, thankfully.

At last, Orion passed into the next hallway.

Fred lowered them down. "Are you okay, Al?"

"My mouth tastes like rubber and blood," he whimpered.

"Sorry, we'll have to patch it up later. There's another prefect on this floor, and Rose won't be back for awhile."

They raced toward the Potions classroom. Fred set up a string of Silencing Charms along the way. When they arrived at the door however, instead of the standard classroom knob, the handle was pointed like a wolf's snout.

Fred jiggled the handle and it snapped into life, growling at his hand with a full set of teeth. He jumped back. "Guard Knob. I don't know how to get past one of these, not without losing a finger." Fred scratched his chin as he studied it closer. "Plus, I have a feeling this isn't the only new security Ringleward put up since our little explosion."

"Does that mean game over already?" Albus slid to the floor. The adventure had barely begun.

"Unless you want to try and figure out where the central storage is. Only Advanced Potions uses unicorn tail hair."

"We can do that instead! We have all night!" Albus nodded eagerly. "...what's the central storage?"

Fred shook his head. "The central storage is like the Holy Grail. All of the school's supplies pass through that room. James and I searched for five years and came up with nothing. It's not that easy."

"What about Professor Aurelia?" said Bea, feeding the knob a biscuit; it quickly decimated it into crumbs. "Didn't she have that demo the other day with unicorn hair, the one she does every year for P.A.R.E.? She might still have some hair in her classroom."

Potions Abuse Resistance Education was a program set up by the Ministry to counter misuse of ingredients and unauthorized potions making. She had to attend extra sessions after getting caught brewing in the loo.

"It's not a sure bet, but better than nothing," Fred muttered, flipping open his timepiece. He didn't like to head home without a haul, not when he prepped all those speeches and shiny gadgets. "Well, we _do_have all night. Let's go."

The destination was now two floors up. They found Rose again by the staircase and explained the new plan. She was glad enough to hear that she wouldn't run into Orion again.

As they were about to climb up, Bea caught a whiff of the ovens. "Guys," she said, "a little biscuit break?"

"That's all the way back there." Fred had just prepped himself with a mental soundtrack that called for dashing down corridors, flashy diversion tactics and fancy point man acrobatics, not pastries. "Besides, we have the emergency biscuits."

"But there are _better _biscuits. I'll be real quick." She skipped away before he could say no. "Meet you at Aurelia's. Take Albus to the loo or something while you wait."

"Bea..." Fred glared pointedly. "At least watch out for Prefects!"

"Yeah, 'course!"

Bea shook her head as she turned the corner. Fred was too paranoid.

At the fruit bowl painting, she tickled the pear. A full blast of spicy warmth enveloped her entrance to the kitchens. Weaving between the stools and pots and past bustling House-Elves to the cupboards, she joined a couple of Hufflepuffs in raiding the snacks.

She bagged some jammy dodgers for Fred, custard creams for Albus, and Bourbons for herself, and then stopped by the cooling racks for freshly baked cookies. Spying the tops of muffins in the ovens, Scorpius' apology cupcake sprang to mind.

Bea bowled over in giggles, until it suddenly struck her that Scorpius could have very easily lied about baking it. Her face screwed up into a tiny ball. How could she have missed this? It must have been her empty stomach at the time.

There was one way to check.

She tapped an idle House-Elf on the shoulder, who glared at her with his one good eye. "Erm, sorry to bother," she said, "but did you see a Scorpius Malfoy in here about a week ago? About yea high, blond, always in a suit, probably thinks he's better than you?"

He curled his crusty lip and turned away. "Never seen 'im before."

Scorpius had lied after all! What a weaselly snake, hitting her right in her weak spot and making up that whole apology speech with a straight face. _Two hours baking a cupcake_— who spent two hours baking a single cupcake?

But before she could get riled up, another House-Elf marched over. "Xeeny! Xeeny can't say someone don't exist just a'cause Xeeny don't like them," he chided.

The surly House-Elf spat on the floor. "Xeeny do what Xeeny wants. Xeeny don't like him, he don't exist. If Mibben keep scoldin' Xeeny, mebbe Mibbin don't exist either."

The second elf, apparently named Mibben, sighed and glanced up at Bea apologetically. "Terribly sorry, Missus. Mr. Malfoy was in here last week."

"...really?" Reluctantly, Bea gulped down her wrath. She supposed there was no good resurrecting bygone issues, but she had been rather excited at having something to hold over Scorpius. That and the prospect of shouting _J'accuse!_at him.

"Wouldn't forget someone like Mr. Malfoy. Made a terrific mess."

"There ain't nothing terrific about it," Xeeny grumbled.

Mibben shook his head, twisting his foot about. "Xeeny's still sore about Mr. Malfoy's behavior. Don't like it when instructions aren't followed exactly."

"Twat used the wrong kind of eggs!" Xeeny brandished a spoon, knocking it against a line of pots. "Duck eggs! Supposed to be a chick'uns!"

"Now Xeeny, Mr. Malfoy did the proper baking conversions. One duck egg for two chicken eggs."

"You can't convert a duck to two chick'uns! It's just not right, 'else we'd all stop raising chick'uns and raise ducks and then _convert _them like Fancy Boy!"

The squabbling continued as Bea crept outside; House-elf fights lasted forever.

So Fancy Boy really did bake. That opened a whole other can of flobberworms. Maybe it was a hobby. Bea threatened to erupt in another bout of giggle-snorts. Maybe — _maybe _if she went on enough biscuit runs, maybe she would run into him dressed like that cooking celebrity, Julia Cauldron.

She _must _convince Fred next time.

A loud creak echoed down the hallway and Bea paled, all thoughts of frilly-aproned Scorpius slipping from her mind. Her fears were confirmed when she saw the empty space where the staircase had been. It had moved.

Cursing, she rapped the side of her head with a fist, trying to remember the fastest way to the second floor. There were secret passageways, but she didn't remember where without the Marauders Map. She was going to have to take the long way.

Tiptoeing up a stairwell, she hovered by the wall, close enough to hide in the shadows, but not enough for the buckles of her bag to scrape against the sleeping portraits.

A prefect walked by an adjoining archway. Bea held her breath. He didn't turn.

She headed toward the south end of the castle, but as she was about to round the corner, the bright glare of a lantern flashed against a mirror, reflecting the shadowed visage of Professor Hiddlebum, the Runes teacher. A startled gasp leapt out of her throat before she could push it down, and her feet tangled backwards in retreat.

"_Who's there?_" he wheezed.

Bea scanned the hallway she had just traversed, blood freezing. There was nowhere to hide.

The glow was growing brighter, and her legs stretched to flee. Suddenly, a hand clawed at her shirt, yanking her backwards. Another hand closed over her mouth, silencing her first impulse to yelp.

Her cheek scraped against carpet — had she fallen on the floor? But her back slammed against someone warm, not cold stone, and she was enclosed in silk and velvet. On instinct, she swung her elbow back, getting in one good hit before an arm wrapped around her middle.

"Shh, _shh!_Stop squirming, nutcase!"

The shock stunned her like a Stupefy. _Scorpius_.

The footsteps neared and an outline of a rectangle lit up the dark space to her left — Scorpius must have pulled her behind a tapestry. She should have known it was him; no one else was showy enough to own a velvet blazer.

The light lingered, one second, two seconds. Her heart beat fast and booming, and even the faint exhale by her ear echoed loudly in the cramped chamber. Finally, the footsteps walked away, and the light left with it.

Bea tried to charge out of his grasp, wriggling an arm out, but Scorpius caught her again and held her even tighter.

"Don't get us both caught," he whispered harshly. "I just saved your arse."

After another unruly thrash, she slackened.

"Are you going to yell when I let go?"

She shook her head. Scorpius dropped his arms. Bea bolted to the other wall. They both drew their wands — his cast _Lumos_, hers was at his neck.

"Why are you following me?" she hissed.

He rolled his eyes and tried to brush aside her wand, but it only dug deeper into his throat. "Put that down. I drew first anyway. If I had any intention of harming you, I would have done it already. I'm not here for... whatever you think I'm here for."

"So you were following me." Bea circled around him in hopes of snatching his wand, but he held it out of reach.

"For your own good. Now _put your wand down_." Scorpius seized her wrist and wrenched it away. Bea tumbled back against the tapestry and would have fallen out if he hadn't held on.

She braced her feet, wand reluctantly back at her side. "What do you want?"

"I assume you're not interested whether or not I explain myself." A hint of irritation pricked his brow.

But even if he was less wheedling now, Bea wasn't taking any bit of it. "As if one cupcake would change my mind about you. You're a — " She was about to say smarmy git, but he hadn't really been one lately. He hadn't been much of anything lately, except being in a hypothetical apron. "I don't know, but I still don't trust you."

"What if I say I'm here to help you and you're not obligated to do anything in return?"

There was always a catch. "Why?"

"Because I can." He advanced a step so that the light from his wand could catch both of their faces. "Because I like your spunk and your invention and let me tell you: it's a lost cause without someone like me."

He was trying to weasel his way back in all over again. If he weren't so insistent, she wouldn't have been so suspicious; she would have just remembered him as the floppy-haired prat who wasn't as bad as she first thought. "I'm doing fine," she said, stiffening.

"With Killjoy, Potterpuff, and Mad-Eye Weasley? You couldn't even get past the Guard Knob."

"As if _you _can."

"My father installed them all around the manor. I could tame and disassemble one by the time I was eight. But — " the wheedling gleam reignited " — that's small stuff."

She hurried him up; Fred, Albus, and Rose were still waiting for her. "For the last time, I don't want your money."

"Even for free?"

"There's no such thing," Bea snapped. "Maybe I don't know the cost yet but it's there. It might start out dandy, but one day, you'll buy me some fancy supplies and when I run out, then what? Then you suddenly have a bargaining chip, and you can pull out whatever you're hiding up your sleeve."

He held up his hands, empty sans the wand tucked between his fingers. "I'd swear there's nothing, but it was poker night and I still have my deck of aces in there."

"I'm serious."

"You are. And so am I." It was startling how the steely grey of his eyes resisted the warm lighting, and how much that made him the perfect picture of his famed father. "I don't like needing to prove myself, but if I have to, I will. What if I said I know where the central storage is?"

A shiver of anticipation numbed her feet. Her gut told her he wasn't lying and yet — "I'd say you're a liar."

"Would you? Well, I might be heading over right now." He smirked. "You're welcome to join."

His eyes flitted to the right and Bea had only just noticed that they weren't in an alcove, but an entire passageway. Scorpius took two steps toward the looming unknown, and then glanced back. He was waiting for her.

She followed.

* * *

**Coming soon: The adventure continues! Sock gremlins, fight scenes...**

_Another stun whizzed past and she felt her right arm free, but a fresh mob of the greedy gremlins pounced onto her stomach. Bea was quite fortunate that her reflexes were slow; she was about to raise her head to push them off when the second figure landed beside her and knocked the socremlins off with a sweeping circle kick only inches from her face. She sucked in a sharp breath and caught a whiff of strangely familiar perfume._


	9. Hogwarts, A Mystery

**A/N For anyone reading here on , I'll be uploading the rest of the story starting now, but the story is now officially complete at HPFF :) **

* * *

Bea never liked passageways.

It wasn't that she was afraid of them. No, passageways were _boring_. They were dark. Dark, dark, dark. Also stony and occasionally cold.

But mostly dark.

She wasn't afraid of the dark either, but darkness was not good for morale. You could even get sick from living in the constant dark. Their wands didn't help. The light was swallowed whole, a pitiful adversary against the inky black.

Scorpius had told her they heading toward some midway point to meet up with Anjali, who was in charge of bringing in Fred, Rose, and Albus, but that was _forever_ ago. "Are you sure you know where you're going?" Bea grumbled, feet aching as they stumbled over the cracks.

Scorpius shook his head as if it were the silliest question in the world. "Of course! These passages are hundreds of years old; they're not changing anytime soon."

Petulant, Bea kicked a stone, except she ended up kicking some fallen pillar instead, one she swore wasn't there a second ago, and now her whole ankle throbbed. "...it's a magical castle. It can do whatever it wants."

A flicker of orange up ahead sparked hope. As they approached, a terrible stink assaulted their senses, so much that Bea's eyes began to water. She pinched her nose. "Are you _absolutely sure_ — "

But she was silenced by the sheer absurdity of what awaited them.

The light was still too dim to make out the size of the room. The inky gloom seemed to penetrate forever into the ceiling, and all the way up were piles of socks in every color and material imaginable.

Scorpius craned his head. "What the bloody..."

"Socremlins."

The awe was interrupted with Scorpius' snort. "_Sock gremlins?_ What's next, _nargles?_"

Bea shot him a look. Moving staircases, secret passageways, pillars appearing out of nowhere. How was this any stranger? There were sock piles for gremlins of every taste — clean socks, dirty socks, red socks, even windsocks for the punny types. In the corner was a dark pit that, if she had to guess, led to the underground ravines where the House Elves did laundry.

"I've seen socremlins before, but I never thought they had a home," she said, wonderstruck.

"Yeah, you've _seen_ them, and I'm the Queen on a unicycle." Scorpius peered down the pit, kicking a stone in. A splash echoed back. "It's just a story. My nanny told me that so I'd learn to fold my own clothes — "

_Patter. Patter._ Bea whipped to the right.

" — and fat chance that worked. I — "

"Shh!"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't shush me. What, the _socremlins_ coming to take me away?"

Bea pressed a finger to her lips, but the stupid git ignored her, striding forward and spreading his arms wide instead. "Okay, come get me _socremlins!_ I've got fancy socks, too! Very nice quality — _imported_. Made of silk and — _hup!_"

And just like that, Scorpius disappeared.

Or rather, he fell on the floor, which Bea noticed after a second of panic. Two green liver-skinned creatures were at his feet, trying to pry off his shoes. Despite having the wind knocked out of him, Scorpius found the voice to yell, "Oi! Those are _my_ fancy socks!"

Seeing that his wand had rolled out of reach, Bea leapt to action, but she quickly fell to the same fate as clammy hands wrapped around her ankles and dragged her down. Kicking, she raised her wand. As she was about cast a Stunning spell, the torches blew out. More pattering feet approached, matched with pig-like squeals of delight. Bea managed one good stomp on something's face. She'd aim elsewhere but surely these things couldn't get any uglier. Still, there were too many.

A flash of light fell from the ceiling like a shooting star. Two solid thuds hit the ground. Bea tried to twist toward the sound, but the socremlins had restrained her too well.

"_Incendio!_"

A large sconce burst back into flames, offering scant lighting. The new figures dodged the horde, jumping from shadow to shadow, robes flapping behind them.

"_Stupefy!_"

"Fred?" Bea called, recognizing the voice.

Another stun whizzed past and she felt her right arm free, but a fresh mob of the greedy gremlins pounced onto her stomach. Bea was quite fortunate that her reflexes were slow; she was about to raise her head when the second figure landed beside her and knocked the socremlins off with a sweeping circle kick only inches from her face. She sucked in a sharp breath and caught a whiff of familiar perfume.

Now able to sit up, Bea wrenched her wand arm out of the scrabbling grasps and blasted the remaining gremlins at her feet into a sock pile. The last of them scampered away.

Scorpius had managed to stand, but was one sock down. A determined socremlin was hanging off his other foot, wheezing '_Silky, silk, silk!_'. He nearly fell over backwards trying to kick it off but was caught before he hit the floor.

"Thank you, darling," Scorpius breathed in relief, hugging the arms that encircled him.

A deep _ahem_ interrupted his reverie and Scorpius looked up to see Fred arching an amused brow. "I'm not your darling."

"Oh Fawkes — "

His _darling_, Anjali, was helping Bea up, who was also a right frazzled mess, though not nearly as bad as Scorpius. The socremlins had practically torn his shirt apart trying to get at the buttons. Why was every midget creature attracted to shiny things?

Fred and Anjali exchanged positions, and Fred took Bea aside. "You're lucky I had the Marauders Map on me," he said.

Bea tossed a sock off her head and glanced at the two Slytherins, who were also conspiring in whispers. "Did she see it?"

"I don't think so."

"So this — "

"They'd been following us," Fred affirmed, dabbing at the sweat on his neck. Bea almost thought she could smell a faint perfume on him. "She claims they want to help. Says she knows where the central storage is. When you went missing, she came along — looking for him, I suppose." He gestured to Scorpius.

Bea nodded. "That's pretty much what he said, too. Trust them?"

"Not a bit."

"But you're curious."

"Very."

_Fizzlesticks._ "Why are we so easy, Freddie? Give in to a few pastries, pretty girls, and now curiosity. At this rate, they'll nick everything they need by the end of the week. I bet they're doing all this just to lie in wait. They definitely have a plan. Gaining our trust, it's Evil Villainy 101." She would not easily forget the Wheezes fiasco five years ago, when a subsidiary of Malfoy & Co. copied a potion coloring concept that Uncle George had made up. Uncle George hadn't gone after them — said it was too insignificant — but she personally never let it go.

Anjali interrupted with a snap of her fingers. "Oi, you two! We still have a central storage to find. Let's get this done tonight, shall we?" She waved her hand at a makeshift sock-staircase. A large stone archway outlined the wall at the top.

While Bea and Fred trudged up after her and Scorpius, Bea couldn't help but notice Fred's utter entrancement by Anjali's swaying hips. Oh _Freddie_. She nudged him with an elbow, and he turned to her with a stutter, blinking and only barely attentive.

"You got down here with the Ceiling Claw," she said impishly.

Fred scratched at the side of his neck, tugging his collar. "So?"

"So there's only one. How did Miss Patil-Leggies get down here?"

He swallowed, tongue thick. He remembered Anjali's sly wink when she circled her arms around his neck to hold on. Even if she liked to flaunt her charm, did she really have to slink her leg up his like that? Slow and methodical and just a little too high to be decent? He had nearly lost his grip on the Ceiling Claw, which would have been terrible for both parties.

The memory was doing no favors for his current state either, and he would have fallen face first into a wad of old Christmas stockings if it weren't for Bea catching his shoulder.

"I'm just teasing." Bea grinned, punching his arm. "Really, though. If you let her get to you, I'll have to... mangle one of your suits or something. James told me to keep an eye on girls like that 'cause Merlin knows once they bat their eyelashes, you're a goner."

Fred didn't argue.

They passed under the arch and into a torch-lit tunnel. Fred said that Albus and Rose were waiting nearby. Sure enough, the sound of munching led straight to the resting pair sitting on the floor, surrounded by a circle of crumbs left over from the emergency biscuits.

Rose was the first to notice the returning four and with a grand leap, threw her arms around Bea and clutched her to the point of strangulation. "There you are! I thought you died!"

"Mffrph." And if strangulation didn't soon follow, then surely suffocation would come in the form of being crushed between Rose's knockers.

Rose released her to squint at the other new arrival. "Oh, who's this? Malfoy?"

Scorpius bowed with an exaggerated flourish. "The one and only. It's been awhile."

"Not long enough." Rose glared at him and then wrinkled a repugnant nose at Anjali. When he turned around, she whispered to Bea, "Troublemakers, both of them. She was always snogging him on duty last year. One day I'll catch them doing something I can really report … well, besides today." A flash of anxiety turned into a flood. "Circe, _today_. I broke so many rules today..."

While Bea rubbed Rose's back soothingly, Albus bounded up. "Good to see you in one piece. What happened?"

Anjali slipped a parchment out of Scorpius' blazer pocket to his protest. "I believe someone took a wrong turn? Maybe someone else should hold onto the directions next time. Someone who knows left from right."

"Very funny, darling." He caught her wrist, but she shrugged him off and patted his cheek.

"I'm not your darling."

With Anjali as their impromptu leader, they set out once again. Another maze of passages awaited them, but they had six wands providing light this time, and the darkness stayed well away.

"So does that mean we're abandoning the other plan with Aurelia's classroom?" asked Albus as he trudged alongside Bea.

Scorpius was the one to reply. "Why go for a Quaffle when you can go for a Snitch? Come on, Potterpuff, now is the time for thinking big." He spread his arms wide to express said point. Bea very much hoped his sleeve would catch fire from a wall sconce. "The central storage! It'll be the heist of the century."

"I'll believe when I see it," Fred muttered.

"Skeptical, Weasley?"

"Plenty have tried before you."

"Ah, but have they ever shared fine wine with their favorite professor and accidentally slipped them a little something extra?"

Rose nearly choked. "Y-you're not talking about Veritaserum?"

The smirk on Scorpius' lips only grew. "I never said anything like that. But you can fill in the details."

Anjali turned around, eyes glinting under her lashes. "Flitwick is such a lightweight."

Rose gasped. "That's illegal!"

"Thanks for the refresher. I'll keep that in mind for when I care."

"Oh — you!"

"Don't get in a strop," Bea whispered, patting Rose's hunched shoulders. "They're not worth it. What's done is done." And if _what's done_ was going to get her unicorn hair and then some, she couldn't have Rose ruining it.

As the incline took a steep turn downwards, the floor began to crunch with loose cobbles. Sticky webs hung too close, and water dripped faintly from some faraway puddle. It was a back way, according to Anjali. Fred was fairly certain that they were in the Unplottable regions now, the treasured nooks of Hogwarts that often went unseen for decades.

Anjali held a hand up and they shuffled to a stop. "It should be here..." she muttered, holding a wand close to the walls. Flitwick had divulged the area, but a House-Elf gave her the directions, and she had her reservations about trusting an elf who kept raving about butterbeer as if his lifeblood depended on it.

At the corner of her eye, she spotted a brick jutting out of place. Tugging and pushing had no effect. She tapped her wand against it. "_Alohomora?_" No audible click responded.

The others caught on. Fred pulled back his sleeve. "_Aperilapis!_"

"_Aperijanus?_" Bea was just mashing together Latin.

"_Defodio!_" tried Scorpius. The spell dug a useless hole in the wall.

"Open sesame!" Albus shouted. It didn't work either.

Anjali paced around with a deep frown. The tunnel didn't go on for much longer and the general region matched Flitwick's description as well — somewhere down in the basement floor. A detail was missing. If only that damned House-Elf had stopped babbling about —

"...butterbeer."

The only warning was a crack of light on the floor before it broke apart completely, a blinding maw engulfing them. The fall only lasted as long as a shriek before they hit the floor hard.

Bea was the first to recover, opening an eye to face the burning brightness. The ceiling had closed up again, seamless, and she could see no trace of where they fell from. Other than an aching bum, she was all right, having landed on something soft. "Is everyone okay?" she said, coughing.

"No," said a weak voice underneath her. That 'something soft' was Albus. Bea quickly clambered off him and into Rose, who was brushing the dust from her blouse.

"Holy hippogriffs," Fred whispered, looking around in awe.

_The central storage._

It lived up to every bit of its myth, a library of the world captured in a storeroom. Boxes and jars lined every inch of the wall, so thickly clustered that one couldn't see the stone behind it. Bronze labels marked each ingredient in neat bold caps.

As they scrambled to their feet, Fred felt a surge of apprehension. It was so perfect; he was afraid of setting a single jar askew, as if it would tip the precariously ordered balance and send all the glass crashing to the floor. But before he could say 'Wait a second', Bea's incantation left her lips.

"_Accio unicorn tail hair!_" A bottle flew out of a top shelf and neatly into her free hand. Inside were three shining strands curled in a circle. She grinned, "Well, that was easy."

Nothing had exploded. Fred let go of a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He placed a Silencing charm over the room, making sure that no one was outside the single door of the room. They seemed to be in some sort of old faculty lounge area.

"There's crocodile eggs here! I can never find these!" Rose held up a pickle jar. "_Witch Weekly_ suggests putting it in your hair once a week for maximum shine." She unscrewed the lid.

Fred winced. "Hey, be careful, you don't just — " Didn't anyone read the old tales? Treasure always came with a price.

As Bea reached for a bowl of glittery stones, Scorpius slid into her view. He was a bit neater than before, even somewhat sophisticated, despite missing a combination of six buttons from his shirt and blazer. "Called me a liar, if I recall correctly?"

"Sorry," she mumbled, and then pushed past him.

"That's it?"

"What do you want?" Bea crossed her arms. She ought to be grateful, but she couldn't help being more suspicious than before.

He chuckled, and it reminded her why she associated him and Anjali as a pair. They had the same ring of condescension underneath their laugh. "Well, I just wanted to show you how I can help."

"Thank you, but don't," she snapped a little too briskly.

The frown that flashed across his face caught her off-guard; it was strangely genuine, not smeared on like grease, and her thoughts flashed to the Scorpius who had given her the cupcake. If she didn't know any better, all that smarmy-warmy talk was... an act.

Interrupting her was Albus, who was standing at the door, which was cracked open just enough for a peek. "Er, guys... should we worry?" Outside, four furry cotton balls were bumbling their way.

Rose squealed. "They're adorable!"

"Scared of puffskeins, Potter?" Scorpius snorted. Bea blinked and the frown was long gone.

"No... but why are they down here?"

Rose clicked her tongue to beckon one closer. "Some professor probably forgot to leash — "

Fred's eyes grew wide. "Those are alarm puffskeins. _Don't touch it!_"

"_Alarm — ?_"

Her hand fell on the fur. The puffskein let out a great yowl, followed by a chorus of mewls from the others. Panicked, Rose tried to clamp its mouth shut but it hissed and mewled louder, and down the vacant hall, there was the sound of a door unlocking.

Fred shoved her through the door. "_Run!_"

Like a statue come to life, Rose sprint forward, mouth aghast as the puffskein bared its fangs. Outside was a single carpeted hall leading out of a lounge. Fred had Bea by the wrist, and she had Albus. Scorpius and Anjali took the lead. Rose ran just behind them, arms floundering.

"Alarm puffskeins?! _Really?_"

"They look harmless so you let your guard down — " Fred panted. He pulled the train toward the double doors opposite from the direction of the puffskeins; whoever they were alerting, he did not want to meet them. "Look, we got what we came for, so we just have to get out — "

They burst through the doors, and a new decision was thrust upon them as the flickering passageway extended in both directions.

"These are the dungeons. I know them," said Anjali, leaving left, no-nonsense. This was her reputation was on the line.

At some point in their flight, Bea had lost her grip on Albus. She could still hear his feet behind her, but when they turned a corner, he was no longer there, nor Rose.

"We have to keep moving," Fred said, noticing the same. "If they're caught, they're caught. Nothing we can do now."

Reluctantly, Bea kept running. She tripped over a step and felt something loose in her pocket — _the unicorn hair!_ Gasping, she clambered for it as it flew out, but it was too late.

She felt for her wand but couldn't find it. Infernal multi-pocketed robes! Her feet did a full turn. She knew it was stupid — one is not supposed to go _toward_ the light — but this was her one chance, _the success of the night_, rolling down the hallway.

"Bea, where are you — "

Fred had skidded to a stop, and so had Anjali and Scorpius.

"She's lost the — for Fawkes' sake!" Scorpius cried. No heist went perfectly, but did it all have to unravel at the end?

No one was quite prepared, least of all himself, when Scorpius snatched the Ceiling Claw from Fred's belt and dashed after her. He mashed everything that looked like a button. "How does this thing work?"

At last, he managed to extend the claw and it hit the ceiling with a clang just before he reached Bea and she reached the bottle. He swooped her up, but whatever he latched onto wasn't stable enough to hold them. Like fingers scraping across wood, the claw screeched loose, and Scorpius and Bea collided with the floor.

They tumbled until they came to a rest in a heap and Scorpius barely had the foresight to hold himself up so he wouldn't end up crushing Bea underneath him.

He groaned, "We really have to stop getting into these situations."

Running from authority? Crashing to the ground in unfortunate positions? Bea blanched as she saw Ringleward behind Scorpius, hovering over them and tapping his foot.

"For once, Smarmy," she said, lolling her head back on the ground, "I agree with you."


End file.
